The  Choice  of  Books 


<:t 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


uNiviKMmT  of  CALmmmM, 

AT 

LOS  ANGELES 

fJBRAKy 


THE 


CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 


BY 

CHARLES  F.   RICHARDSON. 


:,>  ■    '  '-r- 


NEW  YORK: 
JOHN    B.   ALDEN, 

PUBLISHER. 


\  0  O  6 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

The  Motive  of  Reading 5 

The  Heading  Habit 7 

What  Books  to  Read 14: 

The  Best  Time  to  Read 25 

How  Much  to  Read 31 

Remembering  What  One  Reads 40 

The  Use  of  Note-Books 44 

The  Cultivation  of  Taste 50 

Poetry 57 

The  Art  of  Skipping 02 

The  Use  of  Translations (Uj 

How  to  Read  Periodicals 71 

Reading  Aloud  and  Reading  Clubs 7() 

What  Books  to  Own 83 

The  Use  of  Public  Libraries 93 

The  True  Service  of  Reading 99 


FHE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 


THE  MOTIVE  OF  READING. 

"Of  making  many  books  there  is  no  end,"  said  the 
wisest  of  men  three  thousand  years  ago;  and  he  added  the 
eqaally  true  statement  that  ''much  study" — that  is,  much 
reading — "'is  a  weariness  of  the  flesh."  A  fourteenth 
century  commentator,  in  annotating  this  text,  drew  the 
conclusion  that  all  the  books  which  may  be  rightly  read 
are  "the  bokis  of  hooli  scripture,"  and  "other  bokis,  that 
ben  nedeful  to  the  understoudiug  of  hooli  scripture." 
Modern  readers,  reared  ontsido  the  close  atmosphere  of 
mediaeval  cloisters,  make  a  somewhat  more  liberal  applica- 
tion of  this  maxim  of  Ecclesiastes;  but  all  will  agree  that 
a  wise  choice  must  be  made  from  the  great  stores  of  litera- 
ture that  the  ages  have  accumulated,  from  the  days  of 
papyrus  scrolls  and  birchbark  writings,  to  these  times, 
when  scarcely  any  country  town  is  without  its  printing- 
press.  "We  are  now,"  says  Disraeli,  "in  want  of  an  art 
to  teach  how  books  are  to  be  read,  rather  than  to  read 
them;  such  an  art  is  practicable." 

The  very  first  thing  to  be  remembered  by  him  who 
would  study  the  art  of  reading  is  that  nothing  can  take 
the  place  of  personal  enthusiasm  and  personal  work. 
However  wise  may  be  the  friendly  adviser,  and  however 
full  and  perfect  the  chosen  hand-book  of  reading,  neither 
can  do  more  than  to  stimulate  and  suggest.  Nothing  can 
take  the  place  of  a  direct  familiarity  with  books  themselves. 
To  knoio  one  good  book  well  is  better  than  to  know  some- 
thing about  a  hundred  good  books  at  second  hand.  The 
taste  for  reading  and  the  habit  of  reading  must  ahvays  be 
developed  from  within;  they  can  never  be  added  from 
■without. 


r,  THE  CJIOK  h:  OF  BOOKS. 

All  plaus  and  systems  of  reading,  therefore,  should  be 
taken,  as  far  as  possible,  into  one's  heart  of  hearts,  and 
be  made  a  part  of  his  own  mind  and  thought.  Unless 
this  can  be  done,  they  are  worse  than  useless.  Dr.  McCosh 
says:  "The  book  to  read  is  not  tlie  one  that  thinks  for 
you,  but  the  one  which  makes  yon  think."  It  is  plain, 
then,  that  a  "course  of  reading"  may  be  u  great  good  or  a 
great  evil,  according  to  its  use.  The  late  Jiishop  Alonzo 
Potter,  one  of  the  most  judicious  of  literary  helpers,  offered 
to  readers  this  sound  piece  of  advice.  "Do  not  be  so  en- 
slaved by  any  system  or  course  of  study,  as  to  think  it 
may  not  be  altered."  However  conscious  one  may  be  of 
his  own  deficiencies,  and  however  he  may  feel  the  need  of 
outside  aid,  he  should  never  permit  his  own  independence 
and  self-respect  to  be  obliterated.  "He  who  reads  inces- 
santly," says  Milton, 

And  to  his  reading  brings  not 
A  spirit  and  judgment  equal  or  superior, 
Uncertain  and  unsettled  still  remains, 
Deep  versed  in  books,  but  shallow  in  himself. 

The  general  agreement  of  intelligent  people  as  to  the 
merit  of  an  author  or  the  worth  of  a  book,  is,  of  course, 
to  be  accepted  until  one  finds  some  valid  reason  for  revers- 
ing it.  But  nothing  is  to  be  gained  by  pretending  to  like 
what  one  really  dislikes,  or  to  enjoy  what  one  does  not 
find  profitable,  or  even  intelligible.  If  a  reader  is  not 
honest  and  sincere  in  this  matter,  there  is  small  hope  for 
him.  The  lowest  taste  may  be  cultivated  and  improved, 
and  radically  changed;  but  pretense  and  artificiality  can 
never  grow  into  anything  better.  They  must  be  wholly 
rooted  out  at  the  start.  If  you  dislike  Shakespeare's 
"  Hamlet,"  and  greatly  enjoy  a  trashy  story,  say  so  with 
sincerity  and  sorrow,  if  occasion  requires,  and  hope  and 
work  for  a  reversal  of  your  taste.  "It's  guid  to  be  honest 
and  true,"  says  Burns,  and  nowhere  is  honesty  more 
needed  than  here. 

It  should  always  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  bnsiest  reader 
must  leave  unread  all  but  a  mere  fraction  of  the  good 
books  in  the  world.  "Be  not  alarmed  because  so  many 
books  are  recommended,"  says  Bishop  Potter;  and  "do 
not  attempt  to  read  much  or  fast;"  but  "dare  to  be  igno- 
rant of  many  things."     There  are  now  1,100,000  printed 


THE  READING  HABIT.  7 

books  in  the  library  of  the  Britisli  Museum  alone;  and 
the  library  of  the  Bibliotheque  Nationale  of  Paris  contains 
more  than  3,000,000  volumes.  Mr.  F.  B.  Perkins,  an 
experienced  librarian,  estimates  that  not  less  than  25,000 
new  books  now  appear  annually;  and  yet  the  reading  of  a 
book  a  fortnight,  or  say  twenty-five  books  a  year,  is  quite 
as  much  as  the  average  reader  can  possibly  achieve — a  rate 
at  which  only  1,250  books  could  be  read  in  half  a  century. 
Since  this  is  so,  he  must  be  very  thoughtless  and  very 
timid  who  feels  any  shame  in  confessing  that  he  is  wholly 
ignorant  of  a  great  many  books;  and  on  the  other  hand, 
none  but  a  very  superficial  and  conceited  reader  will  ven- 
ture to  express  surprise  at  the  deficiencies  of  others,  when 
a  little  thought  would  make  his  own  so  clearly  manifest. 
In  Cowper's  words: 

Knowledge  is  proud  that  he  has  learned  so  much  ; 
Wisdom  is  humble  that  he  knows  no  more. 


THE  READING  HABIT. 

There  are  some  persons  who  are  so  fortunate  as  to  be 
unable  to  tell  when  they  formed  the  habit  of  reading; 
who  find  it  a  constant  and  ever-increasing  advantage  and 
pleasure,  their  whole  lives  long,  and  Avho  will  not  lay  it 
down  so  long  as  they  live.  There  are  women  and  men  in 
the  world  whose  youth  and  whose  old  age  are  so  bound  up 
in  the  reading  habit  that,  if  questioned  as  to  its  first  in- 
ception and  probable  end,  they  could  only  reply  like 
Dimple-chin  and  Grizzled-face  in  Mr.  Stedmau's  pretty 
poem  of  "Toujours  Amour."  "Ask  some  younger  lass 
than  1;"  "Ask  some  older  sage  than  I."  Happy  are  those 
whose  early  surroundings  thus  permit  them  to  form  the 
reading  habit  unconsciously;  whose  parents  and  friends 
surround  them  with  good  books  and  periodicals;  anC 
whose  time  is  so  apportioned  in  childhood  and  youth,  as 
to  permit  them  to  give  a  fair  share  of  it  to  reading,  as  well 
as  to  study  in  school  on  the  one  hand,  and  physical  labor 
on  the  other.  It  is  plain  that  a  great  duty  and  responsi- 
bility thus  rests  upon  the  parents,  and  guardians,  and 
teachers  of  the  young,  at  the  very  outset.     It  is  theirs  to 


8  THE  enough:  OF  norKs. 

furnish  tho  books,  and  to  stimulate  and  suggest,  in  ever}* 
wise  way,  the  best  methods  of  reading. 

Just  where,  in  this  early  formation  of  the  reading  habit, 
absolute  direction  should  end  and  advice  begin,  is  a  matter 
which  the  individual  parent  or  guardian  must  decide  for 
himself,  in  large  measure.  Perhaps  there  is  greater  dan- 
ger of  too  much  direction  than  of  too  much  suggestion. 
It  is  well  to  allow  the  young  reader,  in  great  part,  tho 
power  of  forming  his  own  plans  and  making  his  own 
choice.  Of  this  promotion  of  self-development  Herbert 
Spencer  says:  "In  education  the  process  of  self-develop- 
ment should  be  encouraged  to  the  fullest  extent.  Chil- 
dren should  be  led  to  make  their  own  investigations,  and 
to  draw  their  own  inferences.  They  should  be  told  as 
little  as  possible,  and  induced  to  discover  as  much  as  pos- 
sible. Humanity  has  progressed  solely  by  self-instruction ; 
and  that  to  achieve  the  best  results  each  mind  must  pro- 
gress somewhat  after  the  same  fashion,  is  continually 
proved  by  the  marked  success  of  self-made  men.  Those 
who  have  been  brought  up  under  the  ordinary  school-drill, 
and  have  carried  away  with  them  the  idea  that  education 
is  practicable  only  in  that  style,  will  think  it  hopeless  to 
make  children  their  own  teachers.  If,  however,  they  will 
call  to  mind  that  the  all-important  knowledge  of  surround- 
ing objects  which  a  child  gets  in  its  early  years  is  got 
without  help,  if  they  will  remember  that  the  child  is  self- 
taught  in  the  use  of  its  mother's  tongue;  if  they  will  esti- 
mate the  amount  of  that  experience  of  life,  that  out-of- 
school  wisdom  which  every  boy  gathers  for  himself;  if 
they  will  mark  the  nnusual  intelligence  of  the  nncared 
for  Loudon  gamin,  as  shown  in  all  directions  in  which  his 
faculties  have  been  tasked,  if,  further,  they  will  think 
how  many  minds  have  struggled  up  unaided,  not  only 
through  the  mysteries  of  our  irrationally  planned  cvrricn- 
lum,  but  through  hosts  of  other  obstacles  besides,  they 
will  find  it  a  not  unreasonable  conclusion,  that  if  the 
subjects  be  put  before  him  in  right  order  and  right  form, 
any  pupil  of  ordinary  capacity  will  surmount  his  succes- 
sive difficulties  with  but  little  assistance.  Who  indeed 
can  watch  the  ceaseless  observation  and  inquiry  and  infer- 
ence going  on  in  a  child's  mind,  or  listen  to  its  acute 
remarks  on  matters  within  the  range  of  its  faculties,  with- 
out perceiving  that  these  powers  which  it  manifests,  if 


THE  READJNPr  HABIT.  9 

brought  to  bear  systematically  upon  any  studies  within, 
the  same  range,  would  readily  master  tliem  without  help? 
This  need  for  perpetual  telliug  is  the  result  of  our  stupid- 
ity, not  of  the  child's.  We  drag  it  away  from  the  facts 
in  which  it  is  interested,  and  which  it  is  actively  assimi- 
lating of  itself;  we  put  before  it  facts  far  too  complex  for 
it  to  understand,  and  therefore  distasteful  to  it;  linding 
that  it  will  not  voluntarily  acquire  these  facts,  we  thrust 
them  into  its  mind  by  force  of  threats  and  punishment; 
by  thus  denying  the  knowledge  it  craves,  and  cramming 
it  with  knowledge  it  cannot  digest,  we  produce  a  morbid 
state  of  its  faculties,  and  a  consequent  disgust  for  knowl- 
edge in  general;  and  when,  as  a  result  partly  of  the  stolid 
indifference  we  have  brought  on,  and  partly  of  still  con- 
tinued unfitness  in  its  studies,  the  child  can  understand 
nothing  without  explanation,  and  becomes  a  mere  passive 
recipient  of  our  instruction,  we  infer  that  education  must 
necessarily  be  carried  on  thus.  Having  by  our  method 
induced  helplessness,  we  straightway  make  the  helplessness 
a  reason  for  our  method. 

x\fter  making  all  needed  deductions  from  the  somewhat 
impatient  spirit  in  which  Mr.  Spencer  here  speaks,  it  can 
hardly  be  questioned  that  the  young  reader — and  most  of 
these  suggestions  apply  equally  well  to  those  who  begin  to 
read  later  in  life — will  do  much  for  himself;  and  that,  on 
the  whole,  he  stands  in  greater  need  of  a  judicious  guide 
and  helper  than  of  a  rigorous  ruler  and  taskmaster.  Of 
course,  if  he  lacks  both  guidance  and  government,  the 
latter  is  better  than  nothing;  and  there  are  times  when 
only  stern  commandment  will  avail.  But  the  rule  should 
be  made  in  accordance  with  the  large  purpose  of  helpful- 
ness, not  with  the  strict  code  alone.  The  reading  habit 
is  a  growth,  a  development,  not  a  creation;  and  all  meas- 
ures for  its  cultivation,  whether  from  without  or  within, 
should  be  made  with  this  fact  in  mind.  And  where  strict 
and  even  stern  regulation  is  necessary,  that  direction  will 
be  most  profitable  which  best  succeeds  in  causing  itself  to 
be  assimilated  in  the  mind  of  the  governed,  as  a  part  of 
that  mind,  and  not  as  a  foreign  addition. 

Whether  the  reader,  thus  helped  by  wise  counselors,  be 
young  or  old,  he  should  soon  become  familiar  with  the 
advantage  of  making  his  reading  a  part  of  his  daily  life. 
Miss  Edith  Simcox,  one  of  the  wisest  of  living  English- 


10  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

■women,  thus  presses  this  point:  "No  part  of  a  child's 
school  knowledge  can  bo  safely  allowed  to  remain  long 
detached  from  its  daily  life.  The  history  and  geography 
of  lesson  books  must  join  on  to  that  of  the  newspapers;  it 
is  almost  worse  to  know  the  name  and  date  of  a  writer  or 
a  hero,  without  an  independent  familiarity  with  the  nature 
of  his  books  or  actions,  than  to  be  frankly  ignorant  of  all 
at  once;  and  in  every  branch  of  science  it  is  admitted  that 
a  knowledge  of  definitions  and  formulas  is  useless  apart 
from  experimental  acquaintance  with  the  actual  bodies 
described.  An  inaccurate  general  knowledge,  that  would 
not  stand  the  test  of  examination,  may  even  in  some  cases 
have  more  educational  value  than  a  few  correct  and  barren 
facts;  and  our  educational  results  will  not  be  tlioroughly 
satisfactory  if  detailed  information  is  imparted  faster  than 
circumstantial  impressions  about  its  color  and  bearing," 

Mr,  Ruskin,  too,  has  recently  spoken  of  the  duty  of 
brightening  the  beginnings  of  education,  and  of  the  evils 
of  cramming,  against  which,  happily,  the  tide  of  the  best 
contemporary  thought  is  now  setting  strongly — never  to 
ebb,  let  us  hope,  "  Make  your  children,"  he  says,  "happy 
iu  their  youth;  let  distinction  come  to  them,  if  it  will, 
after  well-spent  and  well-remembered  years;  but  let  them 
now  break  and  eat  the  bread  of  heaven  with  gladness  and 
singleness  of  heart,  and  send  portions  to  them  for  whom 
nothing  is  prepared;  and  so  heaven  send  you  its  grace, 
before  meat,  and  after  it."  Of  the  necessity  of  making 
attractive  the  beginnings  of  reading,  Edward  Everett 
Hale  says:  "'In  the  first  place,  we  must  make  this  business 
agreeable.  Whichever  avenue  we  take  into  the  maze  must 
be  one  of  the  pleasant  avenues,  or  else,  in  a  world  which 
the  good  God  has  made  very  beautiful,  the  young  people 
will  go  a-skating,  or  a-fishing,  or  a-swiniming,  or  a-voyag- 
ing,  and  not  a-reading,  and  no  blame  to  them."  How 
much  can  be  done  by  others  in  making  the  literary  path 
pleasant,  is  known  to  the  full  by  those  whose  first  steps 
were  guided  therein  by  a  wise  father,  or  mother,  or  teacher, 
or  friend.  How  strongly  the  lack  of  the  helpful  hand  is 
felt  none  who  have  missed  it  will  need  to  be  told. 

But  those  who  must  be  their  own  helpers  need  not  be 
one  whit  discouraged.  The  history  of  the  world  is  full  of 
bright  examples  of  the  value  of  self-training,  as  shown  by 
the  subsequent  success  won  as  readers,  and  writers,  and 


Tllh:  REMJlXa  HABIT.  11 

workers  in  every  department  of  life  by  those  avIio  appar- 
ently lacked  both  books  to  read  and  time  to  read  them,  or 
even  the  candle  wherewith  to  light  the  printed  page.  It 
would  be  easy  to  fill  this  whole  series  of  chapters  with 
accounts  of  the  way  in  which  the  reading  habit  has  been 
acquired  and  followed  in  the  face  of  every  obstacle.  But 
a  single  bit  of  personal  reminiscence  may  be  taken  as  the 
type  of  thousands;  not  only  because  of  its  touching  beauty 
and  its  telling  force,  but  because  it  is  the  latest  to  be  told. 
To-morrow  some  other  man  of  eminence  will  add  no  less 
strong  testimony  to  the  possibility  of  self-education.  It 
is  the  story  told  by  the  Kev.  Robert  Collyer,  who  worked 
his  way  from  the  anvil  in  a  little  English  town,  up  to  a 
commanding  position  among  American  preachers  and 
writers.  "Do  you  want  to  know,"  he  asked,  "how  I 
manage  to  talk  to  you  in  this  simple  Saxon?  I  will  tell 
you.  I  read  Bunyan,  Crusoe,  and  Goldsmith  when  I  was  a 
boy,  morning,  noon,  and  night.  All  the  rest  was  task 
work,  these  were  ray  delight,  with  the  stories  in  the  Bible, 
and  with  Shakespeare  when  at  last  the  mighty  master 
came  within  our  doors.  The  rest  were  as  senna  to  me. 
These  were  like  a  well  of  pure  water,  and  this  is  the  first 
step  I  seem  to  have  taken  of  my  own  free  will  toward  the 
pulpit.  ...  I  took  to  these  as  I  took  to  milk,  and, 
without  the  least  idea  what  I  was  doing,  got  the  taste  for 
simple  words  into  the  very  fiber  of  my  nature.  There  was 
day-school  for  me  until  I  was  eight  years  old,  and  then  I 
had  to  turn  in  and  work  thirteen  hours  a  day.  .  .  . 
From  the  days  when  we  used  to  spell  out  Crusoe  and  old 
Bunyan  there  had  grown  up  in  me  a  devouring  hunger  to 
read  books.  It  made  small  matter  what  they  were,  so 
they  were  books.  Half  a  volume  of  an  old  encyclopaedia 
came  along — the  first  I  had  ever  seen.  How  many  times 
I  went  through  that  I  cannot  even  guess.  I  remember 
that  I  read  some  old  reports  of  the  Missionary  Society 
with  the  greatest  delight.  There  were  chapters  in  them 
about  China  and  Labrador.  Yet  I  think  it  is  in  reading 
as  it  is  in  eating,  when  the  first  hunger  is  over  you  begin 
to  be  a  little  critical,  and  will  by  no  means  take  to  garbage 
if  you  are  of  a  wholesome  nature.  And  I  remember  this 
because  it  touches  this  beautiful  valley  of  the  Hudson.  I 
could  not  go  home  for  the  Christmas  of  1839,  and  was 
feeling  very  sad  about  it  all,  for  I  was  only  a  boy;  and 


12  rilR  Clio  ICE  OF  BOORS. 

sitting  by  the  fire,  an  old  farmer  came  in  and  said:  *I 
notice  thon's  fond  o'  reading,  so  I  bronght  thee  snramat 
to  read.'  It  was  Irving's  '8ketch-Book.'  I  had  never 
heard  of  the  work.  I  went  at  it,  and  was  'as  them  that 
dream.'  No  such  delight  had  touched  me  since  the  old 
days  of  Crusoe.  I  saw  the  Hudson  and  the  Catskills,  took 
poor  Kip  at  once  into  my  lieart,  as  everybody  has,  pitied 
Ichabod  while  I  laughed  at  him,  thought  the  old  Dutch 
feast  a  most  admirable  thing,  and  long  before  I  was 
through,  all  regret  at  my  lost  Christmas  had  gone  down 
the  wind,  and  I  had  found  out  there  are  books  and  books. 
That  vast  hunger  to  read  never  left  me.  If  there  was  no 
candle,  I  poked  my  head  down  to  the  fire;  read  while  I 
was  eating,  blowing  the  bellows,  or  walking  from  one  place 
to  another.  I  could  read  and  walk  four  miles  an  hour. 
The  world  centered  in  books.  There  was  no  thought  in  my 
mind  of  any  good  to  come  out  of  it;  the  good  lay  in  the 
reading.  I  had  no  more  idea  of  being  a  minister  than 
you  elder  men  who  were  boys  then,  in  this  town,  had  that 
I  should  be  here  to-night  to  tell  this  story.  Now,  give  a 
boy  a  passion  like  this  for  anything,  books  or  business, 
painting  or  farming,  mechanism  or  music,  and  you  give 
him  thereby  a  lever  to  lift  his  world,  and  a  patent  of 
nobility,  if  the  thing  he  does  is  noble.  There  were  two 
or  three  of  my  mind  about  books.  We  became  companions, 
and  gave  the  roughs  a  wide  berth.  The  books  did  their 
work,  too,  about  that  drink,  and  fought  the  devil  with  a 
finer  fire.  I  remember  while  I  was  yet  a  lad  reading 
Macau  lay's  great  essay  on  Bacon,  and  I  could  grasp  its 
wonderful  beauty.  There  has  been  no  time  when  I  have 
not  felt  sad  that  there  should  have  been  no  chance  for  me 
at  a  good  education  and  training.  I  miss  it  every  day, 
but  such  chances  as  were  left  lay  in  that  everlasting  hun- 
ger to  still  be  reading.  I  was  tough  as  leather,  and  could 
do  the  double  stint,  and  so  it  was  that,  all  unknown  to 
myself,  I  was  as  one  that  soweth  good  seed  in  his  field." 

With  young  or  old,  there  is  no  such  helper  toward  the 
reading  habit  as  the  cultivation  of  this  warin  and  undying 
feeling  of  the  friendliness  of  books.  If  a  parent,  or  a 
teacher,  or  a  book,  seems  but  a  task-master;  if  their  rules 
are  those  of  a  statute-book  and  tiieir  society  like  that  of 
an  officer  of  the  law,  there  is  small  hope  that  their  help 
can  be  made  cither  serviceable  or  profitable.     But  with 


THE  READING  HABIT.  13 

the  growth  of  the  frieudly  feeling  comes  a  state  of  mind 
which  renders  all  things  possible.  When  one  book  has 
become  a  friend  and  fellow,  the  Avorld  has  grown  that 
much  broader  and  more  beautiful.  Petrarch  said  of  his 
books,  considered  as  his  friends  (I  borrow  the  translation 
from  the  excellent  treasure-house  of  quotations  on  books 
and  reading,  prefixed  by  Dr.  AUibone  to  his  "Dictionary 
of  Authors"):  "I  have  friends,  whose  society  is  extremely 
agreeable  to  me;  they  are  of  all  ages,  and  of  every  coun- 
try. They  have  distinguished  themselves  both  in  the  cab- 
inet and  in  the  field,  and  obtained  high  honors  for  their 
knowledge  of  the  sciences.  It  is  easy  to  gain  access  to 
them,  for  they  are  always  at  my  service,  and  I  admit  them 
to  my  company,  and  dismiss  them  from  it  whenever  I 
please.  They  are  never  troublesome,  but  immediately 
answer  every  question  I  ask  them.  Some  relate  to  me  the 
events  of  the  past  ages  while  others  reveal  to  me  the  secrets 
of  nature.  Some  teach  me  how  to  live,  and  others  how  to 
die.  Some,  by  their  vivacity,  drive  away  my  cares  and 
exhilarate  my  spirits,  Avhile  others  give  fortitude  to  my 
mind,  and  teach  me  the  important  lesson  how  to  restrain 
my  desires,  and  to  depend  wholly  on  myself.  They  open 
to  me,  in  short,  the  various  avenues  of  all  the  arts  and 
sciences,  and  upon  their  information  I  safely  rely  in  all 
emergencies."  "In  my  study,"  quaintly  said  Sir  William 
Waller,  "I  am  sure  to  converse  with  none  but  wise  men; 
but  abroad  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  avoid  the  society  of 
fools."  Sir  John  Herschel  called  books  "the  best  society 
in  every  period  of  history:"  "  AVere  I  to  pray  for  a  taste 
which  should  stand  me  in  stead  under  every  variety  of 
circumstances  and  be  a  source  of  happiness  and  cheerfulness 
to  me  during  life,  and  a  shield  against  its  ills,  however  things 
might  go  amiss,  and  the  world  frown  upon  me,  it  would 
ba  a  taste  for  reading.  Give  a  man  this  taste,  and  the 
means  of  gratifying  it,  and  you  can  hardly  fail  of  making 
him  a  happy  man;  unless,  indeed,  you  put  into  his  hands 
a  most  perverse  selection  of  books.  You  place  him  in  con- 
tact with  the  best  society  in  every  period  of  history — with 
the  wisest,  the  wittiest,  the  tenderest,  the  bravest,  and 
the  purest  characters  who  have  adorned  humanity.  Yon 
make  him  a  denizen  of  all  nations,  a  contemporary  of  all 
ages.  The  world  has  been  created  for  him."  Among  his 
books,  William  Ellery  Ohanning  could  say:  "In  the  best 


14  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

books  great  men  talk  to  iis,  with  us,  and  give  us  their 
most  p'ecious  thoughts.  Books  are  the  voices  of  the  dis- 
tant and  the  dead.  Books  are  the  true  levellers.  They 
give  to  all  who  will  faithfully  use  them  the  society  and 
the  presence  of  the  best  and  greatest  of  our  race.  No 
matter  how  poor  I  am;  no  matter  though  the  prosperous 
of  my  own  time  will  not  enter  my  obscure  dwelling,  if 
learned  men  and  poets  will  enter  and  take  up  their  abode 
under  my  roof,  if  Milton  will  cross  my  threshold  to  sing 
to  me  of  Paradise;  and  Shakespeare  open  to  me  the  world 
of  imagination  and  the  workings  of  the  human  heart;  and 
Franklin  enrich  \ne  with  his  practical  wisdom — 1  shall 
not  pine  for  want  of  intellectual  companionshi}),  and  I 
may  become  a  cultivated  man,  though  excluded  from  what 
is  called  the  best  society  in  the  place  where  I  live. 
Nothing  can  supply  the  place  of  books.  They  are  cheer- 
ing and  soothing  companions  in  solitude,  illness,  or  atttic- 
tion.  The  wealth  of  both  continents  could  not  compen- 
sate for  the  good  they  impart.  Let  every  man,  if  possible, 
gather  some  good  books  under  his  roof,  and  obtain  access 
for  himself  and  family  to  some  social  library.  Almost 
any  luxury  should  be  sacrificed  to  this."  One  cannot 
wonder  that  Fenelon  said:  "If  the  crowns  of  all  the  king- 
doms of  the  Empire  were  laid  down  at  my  feet  in  exchange 
for  my  books  and  my  love. of  reading,  I  would  spurn  them 
all;"  or  that  the  historian  Gibbon  wrote:  "A  taste  for 
books  is  the  pleasure  and  glory  of  my  life.  I  would  not 
exchange  it  for  the  glory  of  the  Indies." 

All  these  words  of  wise  readers  show  that  he  who  rightly 
cultivates  the  reading  habit  can  not  only  have  the  best  of 
friends  ever  at  hand,  but  can  at  length  say  with  all  mod- 
esty, if  he  reads  aright  and  remembers  well:  "My  mind 
to  me  a  kingdom  is." 


WHAT  BOOKS  TO  EEAD. 

"What  books  shall  I  read?"  This  question  virtually 
includes  in  its  answer  the  consideration  of  the  whole  world 
of  letters,  and  is  of  such  manifest  importance  that  no  in- 
divitUial  utterance,  however  sincere  and  competent,  can 
entirely  cover  the  ground.  Diiferent  tastes  and  needs  call 
for  different  suggestions.     In  this  chapter,  therefore,  I 


WHAT  BOOKS  TO  BEAD.  15 

prefer  to  express. iny  own  conclusions  principally  in  the 
words  of  mightier  men. 

Coming  thus  definitely  to  the  choice  of  particular  books, 
■we  find  that  only  the  smaller  and  pettier  guides  presume 
to  mark  out  definite  courses  of  reading.  The  master 
minds  never  forget  that  books  were  made  for  readers,  not 
readers  for  books.  "The  best  rule  of  reading,"  says 
Emerson,  "will  be  a  method  from  nature,  and  not  a  me- 
chanical one  of  hours  and  pages.  It  holds  each  student 
to  a  pursuit  of  his  native  aim,  instead  of  a  desultory  mis- 
cellany. Let  him  read  what  is  proper  to  him,  and  not 
waste  his  memory  on  a  crowd  of  mediocrities.  As  whole 
nations  have  derived  their  culture  from  a  single  book — as 
the  Bible  has  been  the  literature  as  well  as  the  religion  of 
large  portions  of  Europe — as  Eafiz  was  the  eminent  genius 
of  the  Persians,  Confucius  of  the  Chinese,  Cervantes  of 
the  Spaniards;  so,  perhaps,  the  human  mind  would  be  a 
gainer,  if  all  the  secondary  writers  were  lost — say,  in 
England,  all  but  Shakeespeare,  Milton,  and  Bacon — 
through  the  profouuder  study  so  drawn  to  those  wonder- 
ful minds.  With  this  pilot  of  his  own  genius,  let  the 
student  read  one,  or  let  him  read  many,  he  will  read 
advantageously." 

This  advantage  of  following  the  common  consent  of  the 
best  critics  as  to  what  are  the  world's  best  books,  is  further 
pressed  by  Mr.  Emerson  when  he  urges  us  to  "lie  sure  to 
read  no  mean  books;"  and  when,  in  more  definite  language, 
he  lays  down  his  three  well-known  rules:  "1.  Never  read 
any  book  that  is  not  a  year  old.  2.  Never  read  any  but 
famed  books.  3.  Never  read  any  but  what  you  like;  or, 
in  Shakespeare's  phrase: 

"No  profit  goes  where  is  no  pleasure  ta'en  ; 
In  brief,  sir,  study  what  you  most  affect. ' ' 

The  first  of  these  rules  is  clearly  not  to  be  followed  in 
every  case.  It  is,  indeed,  modified  by  the  third  rule, 
which  must  sometimes  take  precedence  of  it.  But  there 
can  be  no  question  that  the  great  majority  of  readers  are 
in  vastly  more  danger  of  wasting  their  time  over  books 
that  are  too  new,  than  of  losing  sight  of  contemporary  lit- 
erature through  too  exclusive  a  devotion  to  the  standard 
books  of  past  ages. 

Oarlylesays  that  all  books  are  to  be  divided  into  two 


:j  r,  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

classes,  sheep  aii<l  goats.  "  Headers  are  not  aware  of  the 
fact,"  he  says,  "  but  a  fact  it  is  of  daily  iiicreasiug  magnitude, 
and  already  of  terrible  importance  to  readers,  that  their  first 
grand  necessity  in  reading  is  to  be  vigilantly,  conscien- 
tiously select;  and  to  know  every wheje  that  books,  like 
human  souls,  are  actually  divided  into  what  we  may  call 
sheep  and  goats — the  latter  put  inexorably  on  the  left 
hand  of  the  judge;  and  tending,  every  goat  of  them,  at 
all  moments,  whither  we  know,  and  much  to  be  avoided, 
and,  if  possible,  ignored  by  all  sane  creatures. 

Thoreau  expressed  the  same  thought  more  bombastic- 
ally, but  not  more  forcibly,  when  he  said:  "liead  not  the 
Times;  read  the  Eternities."  Euskin  further  and  more 
minutely  marks  the  same  distinction  l)y  noting  the  differ- 
ence between  books  of  the  hour,  and  books  of  all  time. 
"All  books,"  says  he,  "are  divisible  into  two  classes,  the 
books  of  the  hour,  and  the  books  of  all  time.  Mark  this 
distinction — it  is  not  one  of  quality  only.  It  is  not  merely 
the  bad  book  that  does  not  last,  and  the  good  one  that 
does.  It  is  a  distinction  of  species.  There  are  good  books 
for  the  hour,  and  good  books  for  all  time;  bad  books  for 
the  hour,  and  bad  ones  for  all  time.  I  must  define  the 
two  kinds  before  I  go  further.  The  good  books  of  the 
hour,  then — I  do  not  speak  of  the  bad  ones — is  simply  the 
useful  or  pleasant  talk  of  some  person  whom  you  cannot 
otherwise  converse  with,  printed  for  you.  .  .  .  These 
bright  accounts  of  travels;  good-humored  and  witty  dis- 
cussions of  questions;  lively  or  pathetic  story-telling  in 
the  form  of  novel;  firm  fact-telling  by  the  real  agents 
concerned  in  the  events  of  passing  history;  all  these  books 
of  the  hour,  multiplying  among  us  as  education  becomes 
more  general,  are  a  peculiar  characteristic  and  possession 
of  the  present  ago;  we  ought  to  be  entirely  thankful  for 
them,  and  entirely  asiiamed  of  our.selves  if  we  make  no 
good  nse  of  them.  But  we  make  the  worst  possible  nse, 
if  we  allow  them  to  usurp  the  place  of  true  books;  for, 
strictly  speaking,  they  are  not  books  at  all,  but  merely 
letters  or  newspapers  in  good  print.  Our  friend's  letter 
may  be  delightful,  or  necessary,  to-day:  whether  worth 
keeping  or  not,  is  to  be  considered.  The  newspaper  may 
be  entirely  proper  at  breakfast  time;  but  assuredly  it  is 
not  reading  for  all  day.  So,  though  bound  up  in  a  vol- 
ume, the  long  letter  which  gives  you  so  pleasant  an  account 


WHAT  BOOKS  TO  READ.  17 

of  the  inus,  aud  roads,  and  weather  last  year  at  such  a 
place,  or  which  tells  yon  that  anuisiug  story,  or  gives  you 
the  real  circumstances  of  such  aud  such  events,  however 
valuable  for  occasional  reference,  may  not  be,  in  the  real 
sense  of  the  word,  a  "book"  at  all,  nor,  in  the  real  sense, 
to  be  "read."  A  book  is  essentially  not  a  talked  thing, 
but  a  written  thing;  and  written,  not  with  the  view  of 
mere  communication,  but  of  permanence.  The  book  of 
talk  is  printed  only  because  its  author  cannot  speak  to 
thousands  of  people  at  once;  if  he  could,  he  would — the 
volume  is  mere  viiiJtiplication  of  his  voice.  You  cannot 
talk  to  your  friend  in  India;  if  you  could,  you  would; 
you  write  instead:  that  is  mere  coiweijance  of  voice.  But 
a  book  is  written,  not  to  multiply  the  voice  merely,  not  to 
carry  it  merely,  but  to  preserve  it.  The  author  has  some- 
thing to  say  which  he  perceives  to  bo  true  and  useful,  or 
helpfully  beautiful.  So  far  as  he  knows,  no  one  has  yet 
said  it;  so  far  as  he  knows,  no  one  else  can  say  it;  he  is 
bound  to  say  it,  clearly  and  melodiously  if  he  may,  clearly, 
at  all  events.  In  the  sum  of  his  life  he  finds  this  to  be 
the  thing,  or  group  of  things,  manifest  to  him;  this  the 
piece  of  true  knowledge,  or  sight,  which  his  share  of  sun- 
shine and  earth  has  permitted  him  to  seize.  He  would 
fain  set  it  down  forever;  engrave  it  on  rock,  if  he  could; 
saying,  'This  is  the  best  of  me;  for  the  rest,  I  ate,  and 
drank,  and  slept,  loved,  and  hated,  like  another;  my  life 
was  as  the  vapor,  and  is  not;  but  this  I  saw  and  knew: 
this,  if  anything  of  mine,  is  worth  your  memory."  That 
is  his  'writing;'  it  is,  in  his  small  human  way,  and  with 
whatever  degree  of  true  inspiration  is  in  him,  his  inscrip- 
tion, or  Scripture.     That  is  a  'Book.'  " 

Mr.  Ruskin  thus  makes  clear  the  fact  that  the  real  value 
of  any  book,  to  a  particular  reader,  is  to  be  measured  by 
its  serviceableuess  to  that  reader.  "There  is  a  literature 
of  knowledge,  and  a  literature  of  power,"  says  DeQuincey; 
and  knowledge  that  can  never  be  transmuted  into  power, 
becomes  mere  intellectual  rubbish.  The  choice  of  books 
would  be  greatly  aided,  if  the  reader,  in  taking  up  a  vol- 
ume, would  always  ask  himself  just  why  he  is  going  to 
read  it,  and  of  what  service  it  is  to  be  to  him.  This  ques- 
tion, if  sincerely  put,  aud  truthfully  answered,  is  pretty 
sure  to  lead  him  to  the  great  books — or  at  least  to  the 
books  that  are  great  for  him- 


18  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

Homer,  Pliitarcli,  Herodotus,  and  Plato;  Virgil,  Liv}', 
Hiul  Tacitus;  Dante,  Tasso,  and  Petrarch;  Cervantes; 
Thomas  a  Kenipis;  (ioethe  and  Sliiller;  Chaucer,  Spen- 
ser, Shakespeare,  Milton,  Bacon,  Sir  Thomas  Browne, 
Bunyan,  Addii'on,  Gray,  Scott,  and  Wordsworth;  Haw- 
thorne, Emerson,  Motley,  Longfellow,  J^ryant,  Lowell, 
Holmes,  and  Whittier — he  who  reads  these,  and  such  as 
these,  is  not  in  serious  danger  of  spending  his  time  amiss. 
But  not  even  such  a  list  as  this  is  to  be  received  as  a 
necessity  by  every  reader.  One  may  find  Cowper  more 
profitable  than  Wordsworth;  to  another,  the  reading  of 
Bancroft  may  be  more  advantageous  than  that  of  Herod- 
otus; while  a  third  may  gain  more  immediate  and  lasting 
good  from  great  historical  novels  like  Ebers'  ''Uarda,"  or 
Kiugsley's  "  Hypatia,"  than  from  a  long  and  patient  at- 
tempt to  master  Grote's  "History  of  Greece,"  or  Gibbon's 
"Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire."  Kach  indi- 
vidual reader  must  try  to  determine,  first  of  all,  what  is 
the  best  for  himself.  In  forming  this  decision  let  him 
make  the  ntmost  nse  of  the  best  guides,  not  forgetting 
that  the  average  opinion  of  educated  men  is  pretty  sure  to 
be  a  correct  opinion;  but  let  him  never  put  aside  his  own 
honesty  and  individuality.  He  must  choose  his  books  as 
he  chooses  his  frientls,  because  of  their  integrity  and  help- 
fulness, and  because  of  the  pleasure  their  society  gives 
him. 

Mr.  Matthew  Arnold,  not  all  of  whose  advice  is  to  be 
implicitly  received,  well  emphasizes  the  necessity  of  read- 
ing with  your  highest  aims  in  view,  when  he  says:  "The 
poor  require  culture  as  much  as  the  rich;  and  at  present 
their  education,  even  when  they  get  education,  gives  them 
hardly  anything  of  it;  yet  hardly  less  of  it,  perhaps,  than 
the  education  of  the  rich  gives  to  the  rich.  For  when  we 
say  that  culture  is.  To  know  the  best  th(d  has  been  tlioitght 
and  said  in  the  world.,  we  imply  that,  for  culture,  a  sys- 
tem directly  tending  to  this  end  is  necessary  in  our  reading. 
Now  there  is  no  such  system  yet  present  to  guide  the 
reading  of  the  rich,  any  more  than  of  the  poor.  Such  a 
system  is  hardly  even  thought  of;  a  man  who  wants  it 
must  make  it  for  himself.  And  our  reading  being  so 
without  purpose  as  it  is,  nothing  can  be  truer  than  what 
Butler  says,  that  really,  in  general,  no  part  of  our  time  is 
more  idly  spent  than  the  time  spent  in  reading.     Still, 


WHAT  BOOKS  TO  READ.  19 

ciiltnre  is  iiitlispeiisably  necessary,  and  culture  implies 
reading;  but  reading  with  a  purpose  to  guide  it,  and  with 
system.  He  does  a  good  work  who  does  anything  to  help 
this;  indeed,  it  is  the  one  essential  service  now  to  be  ren- 
dered to  education.  And  the  plea  that  this  or  that  man 
has  no  time  for  culture  will  vanish  as  soon  as  we  desire 
culture  so  much  that  we  begin  to  examine  seriously  our 
present  use  of  our  time." 

"Every  book  that  we  take  np  without  a  purpose,"  says 
Mr.  Frederick  Harrison,  "is  an  opportunity  lost  of  taking 
np  a  book  with  a  purpose — every  bit  of  stray  information 
which  we  cram  into  our  heads  without  any  sense  of  its 
importance,  is  for  the  most  part  a  bit  of  the  most  useful 
information  driven  ont  of  our  heads  and  choked  oif  from 
our  minds.  It  is  so  certain  that  information,  that  is,  the 
knowledge,  the  stored  thoughts  and  observations  of  man- 
kind, is  now  grown  to  proportions  so  utterly  incalculable 
and  prodigious,  that  even  the  learned  whose  lives  are  given 
to  study  can  but  pick  up  some  crumbs  that  fall  from  the 
table  of  truth.  They  delve  and  tend  but  a  plot  in  that 
vast  and  teeming  kingdom,  while  those  whom  active  life 
leaves  with  but  a  few  ci'amped  hours  of  study  can  hardly 
come  to  know  the  very  vastness  of  the  field  before  them; 
or  how  infinitesimally  small  is  the  corner  they  can  traverse 
at  the  best.  We  know  all  is  not  of  equal  value.  We 
know  that  books  differ  in  value  as  much  as  diamonds  differ 
from  the  sand  on  the  seashore,  as  much  as  our  living 
friend  differs  from  a  dead  rat.  We  know  that  much  in 
the  myriad-peopled  world  of  books — very  rnnch  in  all 
kinds — is  trivial,  enervating,  inane,  even  noxious.  And 
thus,  where  we  have  infinite  opportunities  of  wasting  onr 
efforts  to  no  end,  of  fatiguing  our  minds  without  enriching 
them,  of  clogging  the  spirit  without  satisfying  it,  there,  I 
cannot  but  think,  the  very  infinity  of  opportunities  is 
robbing  us  of  the  actual  power  of  using  them.  And  thus 
I  come  often,  in  my  less  hopeful  moods,  to  watch  the  re- 
morseless cataract  of  daily  literature  M'hich  thunders  over 
the  remnants  of  the  past,  as  if  it  were  a  fresh  impediment 
to  the  men  of  our  day  in  the  way  of  systematic  knowledge 
and  consistent  powers  of  thought:  as  if  wit  were  destined 
one  day  to  overwhelm  the  great  inlieritance  of  mankind 
iii  prose  and  verse." 

A  reader  who  is  ever  seeking  for  a  book  that  shall  not 


20  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

only  be  helpful  in  some  sense,  but  helpful  in  a  high  sense, 
is  not  likely  to  waste  his  time  over  that  which  is  merely 
respectable  instead  of  that  which  is  really  great.  "I  am 
not  presumptuous  enough,"  says  Mr.  Harrison  further, 
"to  assert  that  the  larger  part  of  modern  literature  is  not 
worth  reading  in  itself,  that  the  prose  is  not  readable,  en- 
tertaining, one  may  say  highly  instructive.  Nor  do  I 
pretend  that  the  verses  which  we  read  so  zealously  in  place 
of  Milton's  are  not  good  verses.  On  the  contrary,  I  think 
them  sweetly  conceived,  as  musical  and  as  graceful  as  the 
verse  of  any  age  in  our  history.  I  say  it  emphatically,  a 
great  deal  of  our  modern  literature  is  such  that  it  is  ex- 
ceedingly difficult  to  resist  it,  and  it  is  undeniable  that  it 
gives  us  real  information.  It  seems  perhaps  unreasonable 
to  many,  to  assert  that  a  decent  readable  book  which  gives 
us  actual  instruction  can  be  otherwise  than  a  useful  com- 
panion, and  a  solid  gain.  I  dare  say  many  people  are 
ready  to  cry  out  upon  me  as  an  obscurantist  for  venturing 
to  doubt  a  genial  confidence  in  all  literature  simply  as 
such.  But  the  question  which  weighs  upon  mo  with  such 
really  crushing  urgency  is  this:  AVhat  are  the  books  that 
in  our  little  remnant  of  reading  time  it  is  most  vital  for 
us  to  know?  For  the  true  use  of  books  is  of  such  sacred 
value  to  us  that  to  be  simply  entertained  is  to  cease  to  be 
taught,  elevated,  inspired  by  books;  merely  to  gather  in- 
formation of  a  chance  kind  is  to  close  the  mind  to 
knowledge  of  the  urgent  kind." 

This  union  of  freedom  with  authority — of  a  choice  for 
one's  self,  and  a  willingness  to  believe  that  the  world  is 
right  in  setting  Shakespeare  above  Swinburne  and  Homer 
above  Tupper — is,  I  believe,  the  true  and  the  only  guide 
in  the  selecton  of  books  to  read.  In  the  long  run,  nothing 
but  truth,  simplicity,  purity,  and  a  lofty  purpose  approves 
a  book  to  the  favor  of  the  ages;  and  nothing  else  ought  to 
approve  it  to  the  individual  reader.  Thus  the  end  is 
reached  and  the  choice  is  made,  not  by  taking  a  book 
because  a  "course  of  reading"  commands  you  to  do  so, 
but  because  you  come  to  see  for  yourself  the  wisdom  of 
the  selection.  The  pure  and  wholesome  heart  of  humanity 
— that  thing  which  wo  call  conscience — is  the  guide  of 
readers  as  it  is  of  every  other  class  of  workers  in  life. 

In  this  connection  it  should  be  strongly  emphasized 
that  nothing  is  so  fatal  to  sound  habits  of  reading  as  the 


WHAT  BOOKS  TO  READ.  21 

loss  of  hearty  enthusiasm,  and  the  substitution  therefor  of 
artificiality  and  dilettanteism.  I  cannot  better  put  the 
■wide  applicability  of  this  truth,  in  matters  of  literature, 
than  by  making  another  long  quotation  from  Mi-.  Harri- 
son, who  is  surely  to  be  accounted  one  of  the  wisest  and 
most  helpful  of  recent  literary  counselors.  In  the  passages 
I  have  chosen  will  be  found  wholesome  suggestions  on 
other  topics  connected  with  the  general  subject  of  leading 
— a  subject  which  is  ever  branching  out  in  new  directions 
on  this  side  and  on  that.  "I  have  no  intention,"  says  Mr. 
Harrison,  "to  moralize  or  to  indulge  in  a  homily  against; 
the  reading  of  what  is  deliberately  evil.  There  is  not  so 
much  need  for  this  now,  and  1  am  not  discoursing  on  the 
whole  duty  of  man.  I  take  that  part  of  our  reading  which 
is  by  itself  no  doubt  harmless,  entertaining,  and  even 
gently  instructive.  But  of  this  enormous  mass  of  litera- 
ture how  much  deserves  to  be  chosen  out,  to  be  preferred 
to  all  the  great  books  of  the  world,  to  be  set  apart  for 
those  precious  hours  which  are  all  that  the  most  of  us  can 
give  to  solid  reading?  The  vast  proportion  of  books  are 
books  that  we  shall  never  be  able  to  read.  A  serious  per- 
centage of  books  are  not  worth  reading  at  all.  The  really 
■vital  books  for  us  we  also  know  to  be  a  very  trifling  por- 
tion of  the  whole.  And  yet  we  act  as  if  every  book  were 
as  good  as  any  other,  as  if  it  were  merely  a  question  of 
order  which  we  take  up  first,  as  if  any  book  were  good 
enough  for  us,  and  as  if  all  were  alike  honorable,  precious 
and  satisfying.  Alas!  books  cannot  be  more  than  the 
men  who  write  them,  and  as  a  large  proportion  of  the 
human  race  now  write  books,  with  motives  and  objects 
as  various  as  human  activity,  books  as  books  are  entitled 
n  pr'iofi,  until  their  value  is  proved,  to  the  same  attention 
and  respect  as  houses,  steam-engines,  pictures,  fiddles, 
bonnets,  and  other  thoughtful  or  ornamental  products  of 
human  industry.  In  the  shelves  of  those  libraries  which 
are  our  pride,  libraries  public  or  private,  circulating  or 
very  stationary,  are  to  be  found  those  great  books  of  the 
world,  rari  nantes  in  gurgite  va  to,  those  books  which  are 
truly  'the  precious  life-blood  of  a  master  spirit.'  But  the 
very  familiarity  which  their  mighty  fame  has  bred  in  us 
makes  us  indifferent;  we  grow  weary  of  what  every  one  is 
supposed  to  have  read,  and  we  take  down  something  which 
looks  a  little  eccentric,  or  some  author  on  the  mere  ground 


22  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

that  we  uever  lieartl  of  him  before.  .  .  .  How  does 
the  trivial,  provided  it  is  the  new,  that  which  stares  at  us 
in  the  advertising  coluums  of  the  day,  crowd  out  tlie 
immortal  poetry  and  pathos  of  the  human  race,  vitiating 
our  taste  for  those  exquisite  pieces  which  are  a  household 
word,  and  weakening  our  mental  relish  for  the  eternal 
works  of  genius!  Old  Homer  is  the  very  fountain-head 
of  pure  poetic  enjoyment,  of  all  that  is  spontaneous,  sim- 
ple, native,  and  dignified  in  life.  He  takes  us  into  the 
ambrosial  world  of  heroes,  of  iiuman  vigor,  of  puricy,  of 
grace.  Now  Homer  is  one  of  the  few  poets  the  life  of 
"whom  can  be  fairly  preserved  in  a  translation.  Most  men 
and  women  can  say  that  tliey  have  read  Homer,  just  as 
most  of  us  can  say  that  we  have  studied  Johnson's  Dic- 
tionary. But  how  few  of  us  take  him  up,  time  after  time, 
with  fresh  delight!  How  few  have  ever  read  the  entire 
'Iliad'  and  'Odyssey'  through!  Whether  in  the  resound- 
ing lines  of  the  old  Greek,  as  fresh  and  ever-stirring  as  the 
waves  that  tumble  on  the  seashore,  filling  the  soul  with 
satisfying,  silent  wonder  at  its  restless  unison;  whether  iu 
the  quaint  lines  of  Chapman,  or  the  clarion  couplets  of 
Pope,  or  the  closer  versions  of  Cowper,  Lord  Derby,  or 
Philip  Worsley,  or  even  in  the  new  prose  version  of  the 
'Odyssey,'  Homer  is  always  fresh  and  rich.  And  yet  how 
seldom  does  one  find  a  friend  spell-bound  over  the  Greek 
Bible  [Homer]  of  antiquity,  while  they  wade  through 
torrents  of  magazine  quotations  from  a  petty  versifier  of 
to-day,  and  in  an  idle  vacation  will  graze  as  contentedly  as 
cattle  in  a  fresh  meadow,  through  the  chopped  straw  of  a 
circulating  library.  A  generation  which  will  listen  to 
'Pinafore'  for  three  hundred  nights,  and  will  read  M. 
Zola's  seventeenth  romance,  can  no  more  read  Homer 
than  it  could  read  a  cuneiform  inscription.  It  will  read 
about  Homer  just  as  it  will  read  about  a  cuneiform  in- 
scription, and  will  crowd  to  see  a  few  pots  which  probably 
came  from  the  neighborhood  of  Troy.  But  to  Homer  and 
the  primeval  type  of  heroic  man  in  his  beauty,  and  his 
simpleness,  and  joyousness,  the  cultured  generation  is 
really  dead,  as  completely  as  some  spoiled  beauty  of  tlie 
ballroom  is  dead  to  the  bloom  of  the  heather  or  the  waving 
of  the  daffodils  in  a  glade.  It  is  a  true  psychological 
problem,  this  nausea  which  idle  culture  seems  to  produce 
for  all  that  is  manly  and  pure  iu  heroic  poetry.     One 


WIIA  T  BOO KS  7 Yf  R EA D.  23 

kuows — at  least  every  schooll)oy  lias  known — that  a  passage 
of  Homer,  rolling  along  in  the  hexameter  or  trumped  out 
by  Pope,  will  give  one  a  hot  glow  of  pleasure  and  raise  a 
tiner  throb  in  the  pulse;  one  knows  that  Homer  is  the 
easiest,  most  artless,  most  diverting  of  all  poets;  that  the 
tiftieth  reading  rouses  the  spirit  even  more  than  the  first 
— and  yet  we  find  ourselves  (we  are  all  alike)  painfully 
)islia-ing  over  some  new  and  uncut  barley-sugar  in  rhyme, 
which  a  man  in  the  street  asked  us  if  we  had  read;-  or  it 
may  be  some  learned  lucubration  about  the  site  of  Troy, 
by  some  one  we  chanced  to  meet  at  dinner.  It  is  an  un- 
written chapter  in  the  history  of  the  Jiumau  mind,  how 
this  literary  prurience  after  new  })rint  unmans  us  for  the 
enjoyment  of  the  old  songs  chanted  forth  in  the  sunrise  of 
human  imagination.  To  ask  a  man  or  woman  who  spends 
half  a  lifetime  in  sucking  magazines  and  new  poems  to 
read  a  book  of  Homer,  would  be  like  asking  a  butcher's 
boy  to  whistle  'Adelaida.'  The  noises  and  sights  and 
talk,  the  whirl  and  volatility  of  life  around  us,  are  too 
strong  for  us.  A  society  which  is  forever  gossiping  in  a 
sort  of  perpetual  'drum,'  loses  the  very  faculty  of  earing 
for  anything  but  'early  copies'  and  the  last  tale  out. 
Thus,  like  the  tares  in  the  noble  parable  of  the  Sower,  a 
perpetual  chatter  about  books  chokes  the  seed  which  is 
sown  in  the  greatest  books  in  the  world.  I  speak  of 
Homer,  but  fifty  other  great  poets  and  creators  of  eternal 
beauty  would  serve  my  argument  as  well. 

"Take  the  latest,  perhaps,  in  the  series  of  the  world- 
wide and  immortal  poets  of  the  whole  human  race — Walter 
Scott.  We  all  read  Scott's  romances,  as  we  have  all  read 
Hume's  'History  of  England,'  but  how  often  do  we  read 
them,  how  zealously,  with  what  sympathy  and  under- 
standing? I  am  told  that  the  last  discovery  of  modern 
culture  is  that  Scott's  prose  is  commonplace;  that  the 
young  men  at  our  universities  are  far  too  critical  to  care 
for  his  artless  sentences  and  flowing  descriptions.  They 
prefer  Mr.  Swinburne,  Mr.  Mallcck,  and  the  euphuism  of 
young  Oxford,  just  as  some  people  prefer  a  Dresden  Shep- 
herdess to  the  Caryatides  of  the  Erictheum,  pronounce 
Fielding  to  be  low,  and  Mozart  to  he  j^asse.  As  boys  love 
lollypops,  so  these  juvenile  fops  love  to  roll  phrases  about 
under  the  tongue,  as  if  phrases,  in  themselves,  had  a  value 
apart  from  thoughts,  feelings,  great  conceptions,  or  human 


24  THE  CHOICE  OV  BOOKS. 

sympathy-  l^or  Scott  is  ju.st  one  of  the  poets  (we  may 
call  poets  all  the  great  creators  in  prose  or  in  verse)  of 
whom  one  never  wearies,  just  as  one  can  listen  to  Beetho- 
ven or  watch  the  sunrise  or  the  sunset  day  by  clay,  with 
new  delight.  I  think  I  can  read  the  'Antiquary,'  or  the 
'Bride  of  Lamnierinoor,'  'Ivanhoe,'  'Quentin  Durward,' 
and  'Old  Mortality,'  at  least  once  a  year  afresh.  Now 
Scott  is  a  perfect  library  in  himself.  .  .  .  If  I  say  of 
Scott,  that  to  have  drunk  in  the  whole  of  his  glorious 
spirit  is  a  liberal  education  in  itself,  I  am  asking  for  no 
exclusive  devotion  to  Scott,  to  any  poet,  to  any  school  of 
poets,  or  any  age,  or  any  country,  to  any  style  or  any  order 
of  poets,  one  more  than  another.  They  are  as  various, 
fortunately,  and  as  many-sided,  as  human  nature  itself. 
If  I  delight  in  Scott,  1  love  Fielding,  and  Eichardson, 
and  Sterne,  and  Goldsmith,  and  Defoe.  Yes,  and  I  will 
add  Cooper  and  Marryat,  Miss  Edgeworth  and  Miss  Ansten 
— to  confine  myself  to  those  who  are  already  classics,  to. 
our  own  country,  and  to  one  form  of  art  alone,  and  not  to 
venture  on  the  ground  of  contemporary  romance  in  gen- 
eral. .  .  .  Let  us  all  beware  lest  worship  of  the  idio- 
syncrasy of  our  peerless  Shakespeare  blind  us  to  the  value 
of  the  great  masters  who  in  a  different  world  and  with 
different  alms  have  presented  the  development  of  civiliza- 
tion in  a  series  of  dramas,  where  the  unity  of  a  few  great 
types  of  man  and  of  society  is  made  paramount  to  subtlety 
of  character  or  brilliancy  of  language.  .  .  .  Xor  let 
us  forget  those  Avouderful  idealizations  of  awakening 
thought  and  primitive  societies,  the  pictures  of  other  races 
and  types  of  life  removed  from  our  own  :  all  those  primeval 
legends,  ballads,  songs,  and  tales,  those  proverbs,  apo- 
logues, and  maxims,  which  have  come  down  to  ns  from 
distant  ages  of  man's  history.  ...  I  protest  that  I 
am  devoted  to  no  school  in  particular:  I  condemn  no 
school;  I  reject  none.  I  am  for  the  school  of  all  the  great 
men;  and  1  am  against  the  school  of  the  smaller  men." 

Has  it  not  been  made  clear,  in  the  words  of  thoughtful 
counselors,  by  which,  in  this  chapter,  I  have  sought  to 
strengthen  and  make  plain  my  own  sincerest  convictions 
concerning  the  proper  selection  of  books,  that  the  reader 
must  always  search  for — 

Books  that  are  wholesome; 

Books  that  are  helpful  to  him  personally; 


THE  BEST  TIME  TO  RE  AT).  25 

aud  that,  if  by  following  these  rules,  he  does  not  find  that 
his  choice  usually  falls  upon  books  which  the  greatest 
minds  call  great,  the  fault  is  more  likely  to  be  in  himself 
than  in  them. 


THE  BEST    TIME   TO   READ. 

In  the  choice  of  the  time  for  reading,  as  in  that  of  the 
books  to  read,  large  liberty  must  be  given  to  individual 
needs  and  habits.  There  is  no  hour  of  the  twenty-four 
which  may  not,  under  certain  circumstances,  be  profitably 
spent  in  reading.  In  the  lonely  watches  of  a  sleepless 
night,  in  the  precious  hours  of  early  morning,  in  the  busy 
forenoon,  the  leisurely  afternoon,  or  in  the  long  winter 
evenings — whenever  the  time  and  inclination  comes,  that 
is  your  time  for  reading.  If  the  inclination  does  not  come 
with  the  time,  if  the  mind  is  weary,  and  the  attention 
hard  to  fix,  then  it  is  better  to  lose  that  special  time  so 
far  as  reading  is  concerned,  and  to  take  up  something  else. 
A  much  shorter  time  chosen  under  more  favorable  circum- 
stances—if it  is  only  live  minutes  in  a  busy  day — will 
more  than  make  up  your  loss. 

Everybody  has  some  time  to  read,  however  much  else  he 
may  have  to  do.  Many  a  woman  has  read  to  excellent 
purpose  while  mixing  bread,  or  waiting  for  the  meat  to 
brown,  or  tending  the  baby,  simply  by  reading  a  sentence 
when  she  could.  Men  have  become  learned  at  the  black- 
smith's forge,  or  the  printer's  case,  or  behind  the  counter. 
No  time  is  too  short,  and  no  occupation  is  too  mean,  to 
be  made  to  pay  tribute  to  a  real  desire  for  knowledge.  I 
know  of  a  woman  who  read  "Paradise  Lost,"  and  two  or 
three  other  standard  works,  aloud  to  her  husband  in  a 
single  winter,  while  he  was  shaving,  that  being  the  only 
available  time.  "There  is  no  business,  no  avocation  what- 
ever," says  Wyttenbach,  "which  will  not  permit  a  man, 
who  has  an  inclination,  to  give  a  little  time,  every  day,  to 
the  studies  of  his  youth;"  and  this  truth  is  equally  appli- 
cable to  the  studies  taken  up  in  middle  life  or  old  age 
"While  you  stand  deliberating  which  book  your  sou  shall 
read  first,  another  boy  has  read  both;  read  anything  five 
hours  a  day,  and  you  will  soon  be  learned;"  said  Dr. 
Johnson.     Five  hours  a  day  is  a  large  amount  of  time, 


v|(;  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

but  live  inimites  a  ilay,  spent  over  good  books,  will  glvo  ik 
man  a  groat  deal  of  knowledge  worth  having,  before  a 
year  is  out.  It  is  the  time  thus  spent  that  counts  for 
more  to  one's  intellectual  self  than  all  the  rest  of  the  day 
occupied  in  mere  manual  labor.  "There  is  nothing  in 
the  recollections  of  my  childhood,"  says  Mary  C.  Ware, 
"that  1  look  back  upon  with  so  much  pleasure  as  the 
reading  aloud  my  books  to  my  mother.  She  was  then  a 
woman  of  many  cares,  and  in  the  habit  of  engaging  in 
every  variety  of  household  work.  Whatever  slie  might  be 
doing  in  kitchen,  or  dairy,  or  parlor,  she  was  always  ready 
to  listen  to  me,  and  to  explain  whatever  I  did  not  under- 
stand. There  was  always  with  her  an  undercurrent  of 
thought  about  other  things,  mingling  with  all  her  domes- 
tic duties,  lightening  and  modifying  them  but  never  lead- 
ing her  to  neglect  them,  or  to  perform  them  imperfectly. 
I  believe  it  is  to  this  trait  of  her  character  that  she  owes 
the  elasticity  and  ready  social  sympathy  that  still  animates 
her  under  the  weight  of  almost  four  score  years." 

There  is  need  of  a  constant  economy  in  the  choice  of 
time  for  reading,  be  it  much  or  little.  "It  is  true,"  says 
Philip  Gilbert  Hamerton,  "that  the  most  absolute  master 
of  his  own  hours  still  needs  thrift  if  he  would  turn  them 
to  account,  and  that  too  many  never  learn  this  thrift, 
while  others  learn  it  late."  Nor  is  it  only  those  whose 
pursuits  are  not  distinctly  literary  who  fail  to  make  the 
best  use  of  the  passing  hours.  "Few  intellectual  men," 
says  Mr.  Hamerton,  "have  the  art  of  economizing  the 
hours  of  study.  The  very  necessity,  which  every  one 
acknowledges,  of  giving  vast  portions  of  life  to  attain  pro- 
ficiency in  anything,  makes  us  prodigal  where  we  ought 
to  be  parsimonious,  and  careless  where  we  have  need  of 
unceasing  vigilance.  The  best  time-savers  are  a  love  of 
soundness  in  all  we  learn  or  do,  and  a  cheerful  acceptance 
of  inevitable  limitations.  There  is  a  certain  point  of  pro- 
ficiency at  which  an  acquisition  begins  to  be  of  use,  and 
unless  we  have  the  time  and  resolution  necessary  to  reach 
that  point,  our  labor  is  as  completely  thrown  away  as  that 
of  the  mechanic  who  began  to  make  an  engine  but  never 
finished  it.  Each  of  us  has  acquisitions  which  remain 
permanently  unavailable  from  their  unsoundness:  a  lan- 
guage or  two  that  we  can  neither  speak  nor  write,  a  science 
of  which  the  elements  liave  not   been  mastered,  an  art 


THE  BEST  TIME  TO  READ.  g-J* 

whicli  we  CHtiDot  practice  with  satisfaction  either  to  others 
or  to  ourselves.  JSTow  the  time  spent  on  tliese  unsound 
accomplishments  has  been  in  great  measure  wasted;  not 
quite  absolutely  wasted,  since  the  mere  labor  of  trying  to 
learn  has  been  a  discipline  for  the  mind,  but  wasted  so  far 
as  the  accomplishments  themselves  are  concerned.  And 
this  mental  discipline,  on  which  so  much  stress  is  laid  by 
those  whose  interest  it  is  to  encourage  unsound  accom- 
plishment, might  be  obtained  more  perfectly  if  the  sub- 
jects of  study  were  less  numerous  and  more  thoroughly 
understood." 

We  are  not  to  understand  from  this  that  nothing  is  to 
be  studied  with  which  we  do  not  intend  to  become  pro- 
foundly acquainted,  for  much  knowledge  must  of  necessity 
be  fragmentary  and  incomplete.  This  judicious  adviser 
is  merely  warning  us  against  purposeless  intellectual  tri- 
fling. "Too  many  readers,"  says  Mr.  J,  B.  Braithwaite, 
"allow  their  moments  of  leisure  to  be  wasted  in  a  kind  of 
'busy  idleness;'  they  look  over  a  great  variety  of  books, 
but  for  want  of  settled  diligence,  their  unsteady  wander- 
ings in  prose  or  poetry  are  attended  with  no  satisfactory 
result.  There  is  a  yet  larger  class  of  listless  trillers,  who 
give  way  to  lounging  and  indolent  habits  of  mind,  wholly 
unworthy  of  intelligent  and  responsible  beings.  If  they 
take  up  a  book  after  the  labors  of  the  day,  it  is  too  often 
a  feeble  attempt  to  think,  as  it  were,  by  proxy;  and  even 
this  seems,  not  uufrequently,  too  great  an  exertion,  and 
the  future  can  alone  fully  disclose  how  many  are  the  pre- 
cious hours,  now  never  to  be  recalled,  Avhich  have  been 
thoughtlessly  trifled  away  over  a  newspaper,  a  review,  or 
other  publication  of  the  day,  with  scarcely  an  object  besides 
that  of  whiling  away  the  time.  For  these  and  many  other 
kindred  evils  there  is  no  remedy  more  efficacious  than  a 
sound  and  healthy  ^jw/yjo.s-e,  rightly  directed,  and  steadily 
maintained.  This  is  the  magnet  that  can  discover  and 
gather  to  itself,  even  from  the  dust,  the  scattered  particles 
within  the  range  of  its  attraction.  With  this  all  our  read- 
ing will  be  improved  to  the  greatest  advantage;  while 
without  it  the  perusal  of  the  best  books  will  be  desultory 
and  comparatively  unimproving;  the  best  materials  may 
be  collected,  but  they  will  be  in  rude  heaps  that  incumber, 
rather  than  adorn,  the  ground.  And  how  great  is  the 
danger,  where  there  is  no  fixed  aim,  that  life  may  be  frit- 


28  THE  CIIOTCE  OF  BOOKS. 

tered  away  in  empty  and  profitless,  because  purposeless, 
occupation." 

The  Germans,  who  certainly  have  great  results  to  show 
for  the  time  they  spend  in  reading  and  other  intellectual 
pursuits,  may  protitably  teach  us  two  lessons  concerning 
the  best  time  to  read :  that  brain-work  should  be  steady 
and  uninterrnpted  while  it  lasts,  and  that  it  should  be 
varied  by  periods  of  rest  and  changed  employment.  "In 
the  charming  and  precious  letters  of  Victor  Jacquement," 
says  Hamertou,  "a  man  whose  life  was  dedicated  to  cul- 
ture, and  who  not  only  lived  for  it,  but  died  for  it,  there 
is  a  passage  about  the  intellectual  labors  of  Germans, 
which  takes  due  account  of  the  expenditure  of  time." 
This  letter  runs  as  follows:  "Being  astonished  at  the  pro- 
digious variety  and  at  the  extent  of  knowledge  possessed 
by  the  Germans,  I  begged  one  of  my  friends,  Saxon  by 
birth,  and  one  of  the  foremost  geologists  in  Europe,  to 
tell  me  how  his  countrymen  managed  to  know  so  many 
things.  Here  is  his  answer,  nearly  in  his  own  words:  'A 
German  (except  myself,  who  am  the  idlest  of  men),  gets 
np  early,  summer  and  winter,  at  about  five  o'clock.  He 
works  four  hours  before  breakfast,  sometimes  smoking  all 
the  time,  which  does  not  interfere  with  his  application. 
His  breakfast  lasts  about  half  an  hour,  and  ho  remains, 
afterward,  another  half  hour  talking  with  his  wife  and 
playing  with  his  children.  He  returns  to  his  work  for 
six  hours,  dines  without  luirrying  himself,  smokes  an  hour 
after  dinner,  playing  again  with  his  children,  and  before 
he  goes  to  bed  he  works  four  liours  more.  He  begins 
again  every  day,  and  never  goes  out.  This  is  how  it 
comes  to  pass  that  Oersted,  the  greatest  natural  philoso- 
pher in  Germany,  is  at  the  same  time  the  greatest  physi- 
cian; this  is  how  Kant,  tJie  metaphysician,  was  one  of  the 
most  learned  astronomers  in  Europe:  and  how  Goethe, 
who  is  at  present  the  first  and  most  fertile  author  in  Ger- 
many in  almost  all  kinds  of  literature,  is  an  excellent  bot- 
anist, mineralogist,  and  natural  philosopher.'"  This  per- 
sistency of  the  Geiman  character  evokes  grand  results  from 
even  dull  brains,  which  one  would  think  were  steeped  in 
beer  and  shrivelled  by  excessive  smoking.  The  advan- 
tages of  persistency  and  a  "(tiiange  of  words,"  in  the  choice 
of  time  for  brain  labor,  Mr.  Hamerton  thus  further  presses: 
"The  encouraging  inference  which  you  may  draw  from 


THE  BEST  TIME  TO  READ.  39 

this  iu  reference  to  your  own  case  is  that,  since  all  intel- 
lectual men  have  had  more  than  one  pursuit,  you  may  set 
oflE  your  business  against  the  most  absorbing  of  their  pur- 
suits, and  the  rest  be  still  almost  as  rich  in  time  as  they 
have  been.  You  may  study  literature  as  some  painters 
have  studied  it,  or  science  as  some  literary  men  have  stud- 
ied it.  The  first  step  is  to  establish  a  regulated  economy 
of  your  time,  so  that,  without  interfering  with  a  due 
attention  to  business  and  to  health,  you  may  get  two  clear 
hours  every  day  for  reading  of  the  best  kind.  It  is  not 
much,  some  men  would  tell  you  it  is  not  enough,  but  I 
purposely  fix  the  expenditure  of  time  at  a  low  figure  be- 
cause 1  want  it  to  be  always  practicable  consistently  with 
all  the  duties  and  necessary  pleasures  of  your  life.  If  I 
told  you  to  read  four  hours  every  day,  I  know  beforehand 
what  would  be  the  consequence.  You  would  keep  the 
rule  for  three  or  four  days,  by  an  effort,  then  some  en- 
gagement would  occur  to  break  it,  and  you  would  have  no 
rule  at  all.  And  please  observe  that  the  two  hours  are  to 
be  given  quite  regularly,  because,  when  the  time  given  is 
not  much,  regularity  is  quite  essential.  Two  hours  a  day, 
regularly,  make  more  than  seven  hundred  hours  in  a  year, 
and  in  seven  hundred  hours,  wisely  and  uninterruptedly 
occupied,  much  may  be  done  in  anything.  Permit  me  to 
insist  upon  that  word  uninierrnptedly .  Few  people  realize 
the  full  evil  of  an  interruptiou,  few  people  know  all  that 
is  implied  by  it." 

Thus  to  avoid  interruption  we  may  properly  separate 
ourselves  at  times  from  the  society  of  our  ordinary  com- 
panions at  home  or  abroad,  when  such  separation  is  essen- 
tial to  sound  reading  and  thinking.  I  do  not  mean  that 
this  separation  should  be  carried,  as  it  too  often  is,  to 
positive  discourtesy  and  selfishness.  Sometimes  the  best 
possible  hour  for  reading  is  that  spent  over  books  with 
husband  or  wife  or  friend.  But  as  between  time  well 
spent  with  books,  and  time  foolishly  spent  iu  "society," 
there  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  proper  choice.  Eeaders 
must  give  up  something,  and  that  something  often  proves 
to  be  an  undue  devotion  to  the  customs  and  rules  of  fash- 
ionable social  intercourse,  than  which  there  is  no  more 
formidable  foe  to  the  reading  habit. 

"There  is  a  degree  of  incompatibility,"  Mr.  Hamerton 
says  further,  "  between  the  fashionable  and  the  intellectual 


30  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

lives,  which  makes  it  necessary,  at  a  certain  time,  to  choose 
one  or  the  other  as  onr  own.  There  is  no  hostility,  there 
need  not  be  any  uncharitable  feeling  on  one  side  or  the 
other,  but  there  must  be  a  resolute  choice  between  the 
two.  If  you  decide  for  the  intellectual  life,  you  will  incur 
a  definite  loss  to  set  against  your  gain.  Your  existence 
may  have  calmer  and  profouuder  satisfactions,  but  it  will 
be  less  amusing,  and  even  in  an  appreciable  degree  less 
hunian;  less  in  harmony,  I  mean,  with  the  common  in- 
stincts and  feelings  of  humanity.  For  the  fashionable 
"world,  altiiough  decorated  by  habits  of  expense,  has  enjoy- 
ment for  its  object,  and  arrives  at  enjoyment  by  those 
methods  which  the  experience  of  generations  have  proved 
most  etHeacious.  Variety  of  amusement,  frequent  change  of 
scenery  and  society,  healthy  exercise,  pleasant  occupation 
of  the  mind  without  fatigue — these  things  do  indeed  make 
existence  agreeable  to  human  nature,  and  the  science  of  liv- 
ing agreeably  is  better  understood  in  the  fashionable  society 
of  P]ugland  than  by  laborious  students  and  savants.  The 
life  led  by  that  society  is  the  true  heaven  of  the  natural 
man,  who  likes  to  have  frequent  feasts  and  a  hearty  appe- 
tite, who  enjoys  the  varying  spectacle  of  wealth,  and 
splendor,  and  pleasure,  who  loves  to  watch,  from  the 
Ulympus  of  his  personal  ease,  the  curious  results  of  labor 
in  which  he  takes  no  part,  the  interesting  ingenuity  of 
the  toiling  world  below.  In  exchange  for  these  varied 
pleasures  of  the  spectator,  the  intellectual  life  can  offer 
you  but  one  satisfaction;  for  all  its  promises  are  reducible 
simply  to  this,  that  you  siiall  come  at  last,  after  infinite 
labor,  into  contact  with  some  great  rcaliff/ — that  you  shall 
know,  and  do  in  such  sort,  that  you  will  feel  yourself  on 
firni  ground  and  be  recognized,  probably  not  much  ap- 
plauded, but  yet  recognized — as  a  fellow-laborer  by  other 
knowers  and  doers.  Before  you  come  to  this,  most  of 
your  present  accomplishments  will  be  abandoned  by  your- 
self as  unsatisfactory  and  insufficient,  but  one  or  two  of 
them  will  be  turned  to  better  account,  and  will  give  you 
after  many  years  a  tranquil  self-respect,  and,  what  is  still 
rarer  and  better,  a  very  deep  and  earnest  reverence  for  the 
greatness  which  is  above  you.  Severed  from  the  vanities 
of  the  illusory,  you  will  live  with  the  realities  of  knowl- 
edge, as  one  who  has  quitted  the  painted  scenery  of  the 
theater  to  listen  by  the  eternal  ocean  or  gaze  at  the  granite 
hills." 


HOW  MUCH  TO  READ.  31 

From  all  that  has  been  said,  the  reader  has  seen  how 
closely  the  best  choice  of  time  for  reading  is  connected 
^vith  the  best  use  of  that  time.  If  we  devote  to  books  the 
hours  or  the  minutes  we  can  catch,  and  choose  our  read- 
ing with  a  full  sense  of  the  wideness  of  the  field  of  selec- 
tion and  the  narrowness  of  the  time  in  which  we  can  work 
in  that  field,  we  shall  hardly  go  astray  in  our  decision. 


HOW    MUCH   TO    EEAD. 

The  amount  which  it  is  advisable  for  one  to  read  can  no 
more  be  settled  off-hand,  in  a  general  way,  than  the  quan- 
tity of  his  food  or  the  proper  limit  of  his  physical  exercise. 
Tastes,  necessities  and  opportunities  differ;  some  persons 
can  undoubtedly  read  very  mnch  faster  than  others,  and 
yet  get  as  much  profit  from  their  reading.  And  it  is 
hardly  necessary  to  say  that  a  novel  is  "quicker  reading" 
than  a  history  of  Greece;  or  that  a  clever  bit  of  vcrs-de- 
societe  need  not  occupy  the  mind  so  long  as  a  passage  of 
equal  length  from  Milton  or  Homer.  Then,  again,  a  clear 
and  luminous  writer  like  Longfellow  does  not  delay  the 
reader  in  such  a  way  as  an  obscure  and  artificial  poet  like 
Kobert  lirowuing.  In  general  terms,  one  has  passed  the 
proper  limit  of  reading  when  he  reads  without  suitable 
apprehension,  and  understanding,  and  promise  of  reten- 
tion in  memory,  of  the  page  before  him,  whether  it  be 
novel  or  history,  humorous  poem  or  didactic  verse. 
"Reading  with  me  incites  to  reflection  instantly,"  says 
Mr.  Beeelier;  "1  cannot  separate  the  origination  of  ideas 
fi'om  the  reception  of  ideas;  the  consequence  is,  as  I  read 
I  always  begin  to  think  in  various  directions,  and  that 
makes  my  reading  slow."  Dugald  Stewart  thus  empha- 
sizes this  duty  of  thonghtfuluess  in  reading:  "Nothing, 
in  truth,  has  such  a  tendency  to  weaken,  not  only  the 
powers  of  invention,  but  the  intellectual  powers  in  gen- 
eral, as  a  habit  of  extensive  and  various  reading  without 
reflection.  The  activity  and  force  of  the  mind  are  gradu- 
ally impaired  in  consequence  of  disuse;  and,  not  unfre- 
queutly,  all  our  principles  and  opinions  come  to  be  lost  in 
tiie  infinite  multiplicity  and  discordancy  of  our  acquired 
ideas."  John  Locke  tells  us,  in  homely  but  sensible  phrase, 
that  "Those  who  have  read  of  everything  are  thought  to 


3->  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

nnderetaud  everythiug  too;  but  it  is  not  always  so. 
Reading  furnishes  the  mind  only  with  the  materials  of 
knowledge;  it  is  thinking  that  makes  what  we  read  ours. 
We  are  of  the  ruminating  kind,  and  it  is  not  enough  to 
cram  ourselves  with  a  great  load  of  collections;  unless  we 
chew  them  over  again,  they  will  not  give  us  strength  and 
nourishment."  Professor  W.  P.  Atkinson  thus  enforces 
the  same  lesson:  "Tne  most  important  question  for  the 
good  student  and  reader  is  not,  amid  this  multitude  of 
books  which  no  man  can  number,  how  much  he  shall 
read.  The  really  important  questions  are,  first,  what  is 
the  quality  of  what  he  does  read;  and,  second,  what  is 
his  manner  of  reading  it.  There  is  an  analogy  which  is 
more  than  accidental  between  physical  and  mental  assimi- 
lation and  digestion;  and,  homely  as  the  illustration  may 
seem,  it  is  the  most  forcible  I  can  use.  Let  two  sit  down 
to  a  table  spread  with  food :  one  possessed  of  a  healthy 
appetite,  and  knowing  something  of  the  nutritious  quali- 
ties of  the  various  dishes  before  him;  the  other  cursed 
with  a  pampered  and  capricious  appetite,  and  knowing 
nothing  of  the  results  of  chemical  and  physiological  inves- 
tigation. One  shall  make  a  I)etter  meal,  and  go  away 
stronger  and  better  fed,  on  a  dish  of  oatmeal,  than  the 
other  on  a  dinner  that  has  half  emptied  his  pockets. 
Shall  we  study  physiologial  chemistry  and  know  all  about 
what  is  food  for  the  body,  and  neglect  mental  chemistry, 
and  be  utterly  careless  as  to  what  nutriment  is  contained 
in  the  food  we  give  our  minds?  I  am  not  speaking  here 
of  vicious  literature:  we  don't  spread  our  tables  with 
poisons.  I  speak  only  of  the  varying  amount  of  nvtritive 
matter  contained  in  books."  J.  B.  Braithwaite,  another 
American  writer  on  this  topic,  whose  honest  conservatism 
and  wholesome  strictness  well  entitle  his  words  to  the  at- 
tention of  readers,  declares:  "T^he  mind  requires  nourish- 
ing food.  Trifling  reading  enfeebles  it."  Lord  Bacon 
wisely  says:  "Read  not  to  contradict  and  confute,  nor  to 
believe  and  take  for  granted,  nor  to  find  talk  and  dis- 
course, but  to  weigh  and  consider.  This  is  the  great 
secret  both  of  reading  to  profit,  and  of  making  the  best 
choice  of  what  we  read.  If  books  were  more  commonly 
judged  by  their  real  weight,  how  many  popular  works 
would  at  once  shrink  into  insignificance!  It  is  melancholy 
to  think  of  the  millions  of  immortal  minds,  that  accustom 


HOW  MUCH  TO  READ.  33 

themselves  to  reading,  which  when  weighed  in  the  hahmce 
is  found  to  contain  little  less  than  the  lightness  of  vanity- 
How  many  that  might  have  attained  the  stature  of  full 
grown  men  have  thus  become  enervated,  dwarfish,  de- 
formed, or  crippled.  With  desires  formed  for  the  highest 
enjoyments,  and  understandings  capable  of  the  noblest 
improvement,  the  reading  of  trifling  and  pernicious  books, 
the  habit  of  mental  association  with  low,  mean  and  un- 
worthy thoughts,  has  prostrated  the  energies  of  thousands, 
and  debased  them  below  themselves." 

Coleridge  concluded,  in  speaking  of  such  frivolous  and 
make-believe  attention  of  unworthy  readers  to  unworthy 
books:  "Some  readers  are  like  the  hourglass — their  read- 
ing is  as  the  sand.  It  runs  in  and  runs  out,  but  leaves 
not  a  vestige  behind.  »Some  like  a  sponge,  which  imbibes 
everything,  and  returns  it  in  the  same  state,  only  a  little 
dirtier.  Some  like  a  jelly  bag,  which  allows  all  that  is 
pure  to  pass  away,  and  retains  only  the  refuse  and  dregs. 
The  fourth  class  may  be  compared  to  theslaveof  Golconda, 
who,  casting  away  all  that  is  worthless,  preserves  only  the 
pure  gems."  The  usefulness  of  books  lies  not  only  in 
themselves  but  in  the  mind  of  the  reader.  Petrarch  says: 
"Books  have  brought  some  men  to  knowledge,  and  some 
to  madness.  As  fullness  sometimes  hurteth  the  stomach 
more  than  hunger,  so  fareth  it  with  wits,  and,  as  of  meats, 
so  likewise  of  books,  the  use  ought  to  be  limited  according 
to  the  quality  of  him  that  useth  them." 

"To  stuff  our  minds  with  what  is  simply  trivial,  simply 
curious,  or  that  which  at  best  has  but  a  low  nutritive 
power,"  says  Frederick  Harrison,  "this  is  to  close  our 
minds  to  what  is  solid  and  enlarging  and  spiritually  sus- 
taining. ...  I  think  the  habit  of  reading  wisely  is 
one  of  the  most  difficult  habits  to  acquire,  needing  strong 
resolution  and  infinite  pains;  and  I  hold  the  habit  of 
reading  for  mere  reading's  sake  instead  of  for  the  sake  of 
the  stuff  we  gain  from  reading,  to  be  one  of  the  worst  and 
commonest  and  most  unwholesome  habits  we  have.  Why 
do  we  still  suffer  the  traditional  hypocrisy  about  the  dig- 
nity of  literature,  literature  I  mean  in  the  gross,  which 
includes  about  equal  parts  of  what  is  useful  and  what  is 
useless?  Why  are  books  as  books,  writers  as  writers, 
-eaders  as  readers,  meritorious  and  honorable,  apart  from 
\\y  good  in  them,  or  anything  that  we  can  get  from 


34  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

them?  Why  tlo  we  pride  ourselves  on  our  powers  of  ab- 
sorbing print,  as  our  grandfathers  did  on  their  gifts  iu 
imbibing  port,  when  we  know  that  there  is  a  mode  of 
absorbing  print  which  makes  it  impossible  we  can  ever 
learn  anything  good  out  of  books?  Our  stately  Milton 
said  in  a  passage  which  is  one  of  the  watchwords  of  the 
English  race,  'as  good  almost  kill  a  Man  as  kill  a  good 
Book.'  But  has  he  not  also  said  that  he  would  'have  a 
vigilant  eye  how  Bookes  demeane  themselves  as  well  as 
men,  and  do  sharpest  justice  on  them  as  malefactors?' 
Yes!  they  do  kill  the  good  book  who  deliver  up  their  few 
and  precious  hours  of  reading  to  the  trivial  book;  they 
make  it  dead  for  them;  they  do  what  lies  in  them  to  de- 
stroy 'the  precious  life-blood  of  a  master  spirit,  embalmed 
and  treasured  up  on  purpose  to  a  life  beyond  life;'  they 
'spill  that  season'd  life  of  man  preserv'd  and  stor'd  up  in 
Books.'  For  in  the  wilderness  of  books  most  men,  cer- 
tainly all  busy  men,  must  strictly  choose.  If  they  satu- 
rate their  minds  with  the  idler  books,  the  'good  book,' 
which  Milton  calls  'an  immortality  rather  than  a  life,'  is 
dead  to  them;  it  is  a  book  sealed  up  and  buried." 

And  just  here,  even  at  tiie  risk  of  repeating  what  has 
been  said  before,  in  this  series  of  chapters,  I  want  to  quote 
some  words  of  the  German  pessimistic  philosopher  Scho- 
penhauer: "It  is  the  case  with  literature  as  with  life; 
wherever  we  turn  we  come  upon  the  incorrigible  mob  of 
humankind,  whose  name  is  Legion,  swarming  everywhere, 
damaging  everything,  as  flies  in  summer.  Hence  the 
multiplicity  of  bad  books,  those  exuberant  weeds  of  litera- 
ture which  choke  the  true  corn.  Such  books  rob  the 
public  of  time,  money,  and  attention,  which  ought  prop- 
erly to  belong  to  good  literature  and  noble  aims,  and  tbey 
are  written  with  a  view  merely  to  make  money  or  occupa- 
tion. They  are  therefore  not  merely  useless,  but  injuri- 
ous. Nine-tenths  of  our  current  literature  has  no  other 
end  but  to  inveigle  a  thaler  or  two  out  of  the  public 
pocket,  for  which  purpose  author,  publisher,  and  printei- 
are  leagued  together.  A  more  pernicious,  subtler,  and 
bolder  })iece  of  trickery  is  that  by  which  penny-a-liners 
and  scribblers  succeed  in  destroying  good  taste  and  real 
culture.  .  .  .  Hence,  the  paramount  importance  of 
acquiring  the  art  not  to  road;  iu  other  words,  if  not  read- 
ing such  books  as  occupy  the  ])nblic  mind,  or  even  those 


HOW  MUCH  TO  BEAD.  35 

■which  make  a  noise  iu  the  world,  and  reach  several  edi- 
tions in  their  tirst  and  last  years  of  existence.  We  should 
recollect  that  he  who  writes  for  fools  finds  an  enormous 
audience,  and  we  should  devote  the  ever  scant  leisure  of 
our  circumscribed  existence  to  the  master  spirits  of  all 
ages  and  nations,  those  who  tower  over  humanity,  and 
whom  the  voice  of  Fame  proclaims;  only  such  writers 
cultivate  and  instruct  us.  Of  bad  books  we  can  never 
read  too  little;  of  the  good  never  too  much.  The  bad  are 
intellectual  poison  and  undermine  the  understanding. 
Because  people  insist  on  reading  not  the  best  books 
written  for  all  time,  but  the  newest  contemporary  litera- 
ture, writers  of  the  day  remain  in  the  narrow  circle  of  the 
same  perpetually  revolving  ideas,  and  the  age  continues  to 
wallow  iu  its  own  mire.  .  .  .  Mere  acquired  knowl- 
edge belongs  to  us  only  like  a  wooden  leg  and  a  wax  nose. 
Knowledge  attained  by  means  of  thinking  resembles  our 
natural  limbs,  and  is  the  only  kind  that  really  belongs  to 
US.  Hence  the  difference  between  the  thinker  and  the 
pedant.  The  intellectual  possession  of  the  independent 
thinker  is  like  a  beautiful  picture  which  stands  before  us, 
a  living  thing  with  fitting  light  and  shadow,  sustained 
tones,  perfect  harmony  of  color.  That  of ,  the  merely 
learned  man  may  be  com]:)ared  to  a  palette  covered  with 
bright  colors,  perha])s  even  arranged  with  some  system  but 
wanting  in  harmony,  coherence  and  meaning. 
Only  those  writers  profit  us  whose  understanding  is 
quicker,  more  lucid  than  our  own,  by  whose  brain  we 
indeed  think  for  a  time;  who  quicken  our  thoughts,  and 
lead  us  whither  alone  we  could  not  find  our  way. 

When  one  perceives  that  he  is  turning  page  after  page 
without  noting  what  is  printed  thereon,  without  reflecting 
on  the  information  alforded  him,  or  without  knowing  why 
he  is  reading  at  all,  it  is  time  for  him  to  stop,  whether  he 
has  read  one  page  or  one  thousand.  We  take  it  for 
granted,  as  was  urged  in  a  previous  chapter,  that  every 
wise  reader  will  determine  first  of  all  wftt/  he  has  chosen  a 
particular  book,  whether  for  instruction,  or  guidance,  or 
warning,  or  mere  amusement.  In  any  case — and  this  re- 
mark applies  to  books  taken  up  for  amusement  and  recre- 
ation, as  well  as  to  the  gravest  history  or  the  most  abstruse 
mathematical  treatise — when  the  book  ceases  to  perform 
its  legitimate  function,  it  is  time  to  lay  it  down  and  engage 


36  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOORS. 

in  some  other  occupation.  "Do  not  read  too  much  at  a 
time,"  says  Edward  E.  Hale;  "stop  when  yon  are  tired, 
and  in  whatever  way  make  some  review  of  what  yon  read, 
even  as  you  go  along."  Here,  as  in  every  other  division 
of  the  general  subject,  the  duty  of  attention  to  purpose 
should  ever  be  borne  in  mind.  If  your  purpose  is  to  learn, 
read  just  long  enough  to  learn;  if  to  rest  your  mind,  read 
just  long  enough  to  do  that.  When  a  history  becomes  a 
tiresome  burden,  or  a  biography  but  an  idle  amusement, 
or  a  novel  a  burdensome  task,  then  you  may  be  quite  sure 
that  you  have  read  too  much. 

Some  persons  read  both  too  much  and  too  little;  they 
handle  a  great  many  volumes  on  a  vast  number  of  topics, 
but  having  failed  to  assimilate  what  they  have  read,  they 
feel  at  last  the  dearth  that  comes  from  a  dissipation  of 
power.  "There  is  a  great  deal  too  much  reading  at  ran- 
dom," says  the  Boston  Literary  World;  "of  this  book 
to-day,  and  of  that  to-morrow,  with  no  careful  method 
governing  the  selectiou,  and  no  high  purpose  gathering 
up  the  results  into  a  definite  good.  One  cannot  read  all 
the  books  that  are  published;  one  cannot  even  know  by 
name  the  books  that  have  been  written;  the  only  possible 
achievement  is  to  adopt  some. eclectic  system  and  abide  by 
it  ligorously;  to  do  a  little  reading  upon  a  few  choice 
topics,  and  do  it  thoroughly  and  well."  The  same  adviser 
goes  on  to  urge  that  "it  is  an  excellent  way  to  fix  upon 
some  epoch  in  history,  or  some  noted  figure  in  biography, 
or  some  important  department  of  science  and  art;  and  to 
govern  one's  reading  by  its  requirements.  Concentrate 
fact,  fiction,  and  fancy  all  upon  the  theme;  illuminate  all 
parts  of  it  by  every  aid  that  can  be  brought  to  bear  upon 
it,  and  make  it  a  life  work  to  master  it  in  all  its  aspects  and 
relations.  Such  a  course  will  give  constant  interest  to  a 
pursuit  which  even  with  those  who  are  the  fondest  of  it 
may  sometimes  flag;  it  will  economize  thought  and  time; 
and  it  will  enrich  the  mind  with  the  best  fruits  of  study." 
Bishop  Potter  advises  the  same  method:  "Study  subjects 
rather  than  books;  therefore  compare  different  authors  on 
the  same  subject;  the  statements  of  authors,  with  infor- 
mation collected  from  other  sources,  and  the  conclusions 
drawn  by  a  writer,  with  the  rules  of  sound  logic."  Should 
one  thus  regulate  his  time  for  intellectual  work,  he  would 
find  that  any  essential  or  habitual  deviation  from  this  plan 


mw  MUCH  To  HEAD.  37 

wonld  be,  so  far  as  the  plan  is  concerned,  a  waste  of  time, 
and  an  overplus  of  reading.  If  ojie  is  determined  to  read 
Green's  "Short  History  of  the  English  People,"  for  in- 
stance, he  is  reading  too  much  if  he  sits  up  half  the  night 
to  finish  the  last  novel  of  Mr.  Howells  or  Thomas  Hardy- 
If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  is  preparing  for  a  village  reading- 
club,  a  careful  analysis  of  the  general  method  of  Mr. 
Howells  or  Mr.  Hardy  as  a  novelist,  he  will  be  reading  too 
much  if  he  gives  himself  a  "stint"  of  two  hundred  of  Mr. 
Green's  pages  in  a  day.  AViiat  under  certain  circumstances 
would  be  praiseworthy  and  advantageous,  under  others 
would  be  blameworthy  and  injurious. 

In  this  connection  a  word  should  be  said  concerning  re- 
leading.  Luther  says:  "All  who  wonld  study  with  ad- 
vantage, in  any  art  whatsoever,  ought  to  betake  himself  to 
the  reading  of  some  sure  and  certain  books  oftentimes 
over;  for  to  read  many  books  produceth  confusion,  rather 
than  learning,  like  as  those  who  dwell  everywhere  are  not 
anywhere  at  home."  It  is  well  to  re-read  good  books; 
almost  every  one  has  a  favorite  author  or  authors,  to 
whom  he  turns  with  constant  delight  and  profit,  and  the 
habit  of  a  second,  or  third,  or  fourth  reading  of  a  good 
book,  or  chapter  of  a  book,  greatly  aids  the  understanding 
and  the  memory.  But  this  habit  may  easily  be  carried  too 
far.  We  must  forget  something,  much.  God  has  so 
ordered  our  mental  powers,  and  it  is  useless  and  wicked 
for  us  to  quarrel  with  the  ordering.  Therefore  we  should 
not  attempt  to  read  a  few  books  constantly,  to  the  entire 
or  virtual  neglect  of  others.  There  are  too  many  noble 
volumes  that  we  must  leave  untouched,  at  the  best.  Kead 
carefully  and  thoughtfully,  and  re-read  wisely;  but  do  not 
lament  unduly  over  your  failures  of  memory,  nor  strive  to 
correct  it  by  excessive  devotion  to  one  little  niche  in  the 
wide  cathedral  of  literature. 

In  closing  this  chapter  of  advice  concerning  the  proper 
amount  of  reading,  strong  words  of  counsel  are  needed  to 
two  classes — those  who  would  cram  their  own  minds  and 
the  minds  of  others,  even  to  the  ultimate  result  of  mental 
and  physical  injury,  insanity,  or  death;  and  those  on  the 
other  extreme,  who  do  not  need  the  least  advice  concern- 
ing the  limitation  of  their  reading,  for  the  very  good  reason 
that  they  never  read  at  all. 

Of  the  evils  of  intellectual  cramming,  let  these  grave 


3S  TIIK  BOOK   WOh'M. 

words  of  Herbert  Spencer,  ai)pli(;able  alike  to  young  and 
old,  speak  with  unmistakable  emphasis:  "On  old  and 
young  the  pressure  of  modern  life  puts  a  still-increasing 
strain.  Go  where  you  will,  and  before  long  there  come 
under  your  notice  cases  of  children  or  youths  of  either  sex 
more  or  less  injured  by  undue  study.  Here,  to  recover 
from  a  state  of  debility  thus  produced,  a  year's  rustication 
has  been  found  necessary.  There,  you  find  a  chronic  con- 
gestion of  the  brain,  that  has  already  lasted  many  months, 
and  threatens  to  last  much  longer.  Now  you  hear  of  a 
fever  that  resulted  from  the  over-excitement  in  some  way 
brought  on  at  school.  And  again  the  instance  is  that  of 
a  youth  who  has  already  had  once  to  desist  from  his  studies, 
and  who,  since  he  has  returned  to  them,  is  frequently 
taken  out  of  his  class  in  a  fainting  fit.  We  state  facts — 
facts  that  have  not  been  sought  for,  but  have  been  thrust 
upon  our  observation  during  the  last  two  years,  and  that 
too  within  a  very  limited  range.  Nor  have  we  by  any 
means  exhausted  the  list.  Quite  recently  we  had  the  op- 
portunity of  marking  how  the  evil  becomes  hereditary, 
the  case  being  that  of  a  lady  of  robust  parentage  whose 
system  was  so  injured  by  the  regime  of  a  Scotch  Ijoarding- 
school,  where  she  was  underfed  and  overworked,  that  she 
invariably  suffers  from  vertigo  on  rising  in  the  morning, 
and  whose  children,  inheriting  this  enfeebled  brain,  are 
several  of  them  unable  to  bear  even  a  moderate  amount  of 
study  without  headache  or  giddiness.  At  the  present 
time  we  have  daily  under  our  eyes  a  young  lady  whose 
system  has  been  damaged  for  life  by  the  college  course 
through  which  she  has  passed.  Taxed  as  she  was  to  such 
an  extent  that  she  had  no  energy  left  for  exercise,  she  is, 
now  that  she  has  finished  her  education,  a  constant  corn 
plainant.  Appetite  small  and  very  capricious,  mostly 
refusing  meat;  extremities  perpetually  cold,  even  when 
the  weather  is  warm;  a  feebleness  which  forbids  anything 
but  the  slowest  walking,  and  that  only  for  a  short  time; 
pal[)itation  on  going  upstairs;  greatly  imjiaired  vision — 
these,  joined  with  checked  growth  and  lax  tissue,  are 
among  the  results  entailed.  And  to  her  case  we  may  add 
that  of  her  friend  and  fellow-student,  who  is  similarly 
weak,  who  is  liable  to  faint  even  under  the  excitement  of 
a  quiet  party  of  friends,  and  who  has  at  length  been 
obliged   by  her  medical   attendant  to  desist  from  study 


HOW  MUCH  TO  nEAD.  39 

entirely.  If  injuries  so  consi)icuous  are  thus  frequent, 
how  very  general  must  be  the  smaller  and  inconspicuous 
injuries.  To  one  case  when  positive  illness  is  directly 
traceable  to  over-application,  there  are  probably  at  least 
half  a  dozen  cases  where  the  evil  is  unobtrusive  and  slowly 
accumulating — ^cases  where  there  is  frequent  derangement 
of  the  functions,  attributed  to  this  or  that  especial  cause, 
or  to  constitutional  delicacy;  cases  where  there  is  retarda- 
tion and  premature  arrest  of  bodily  growth;  cases  where  a 
latent  tendency  to  consumption  is  brought  out  and  estab- 
lished;  cases  where  a  predisposition  is  given  to  that  now 
common  cerebral  disorder  brought  on  by  the  hard  work  of 
adult  life.  How  commonly  constitutions  are  thus  under- 
mined, will  be  clear  to  all  who,  after  noting  the  frequent 
ailments  of  hard-worked  professional  and  mercantile  men, 
will  reflect  on  the  disastrous  effects  which  undue  applica- 
tion must  produce  upon  the  undeveloped  systems  of  the 
young.  The  young  are  competent  to  bear  neither  as 
much  hardship,  nor  as  ranch  physical  exertion,  nor  as 
much  mental  exertion,  as  the  full  grown.  Judge,  then, 
if  the  full  grown  so  manifestly  suffer  from  the  exessive 
mental  exertion  required  of  them,  how  great  must  be  the 
damage  which  a  mental  exertion,  often  equally  excessive, 
inflicts  upon  the  young!" 

And  on  the  other  side,  I  would  that  these  true  words  of 
two  eminent  English  educators  could  at  least  be  road 
aloud,  if  no  more,  in  the  hearing  of  those  who  will  not 
read  for  themselves.  The  Rev.  R.  H.  Quick,  after  quot- 
ing the  Rev.  Mark  Pattison's  statement  that  "the  dearth 
of  books  is  only  the  outward  and  visible  sign  of  the  mental 
torpor  which  reigns  in  those  destitute  regions" — the 
middle-class  homes  of  England — goes  on  to  say:  "I  much 
doubt  if  he  would  find  more  books  in  the  middle-class 
homes  of  the  Continent.  There  is  only  one  kind  of  read- 
ing that  is  nearly  universal — the  reading  of  neswpapers;and 
the  newspaper  lacks  the  element  of  permanence,  and  belongs 
to  the  domain  of  talk  rather  than  of  literature.  Even  when 
we  get  among  the  so-called  'educated,'  we  find  that  those 
who  care  for  literature  form  a  very  small  minority.  The  rest 
have  of  course  read  Shakespeare  and  Milton  and  Walter 
Scott  and  Tennyson,  but  mey  do  not  read  them.  The 
lion's  share  of  our  time  and  thoughts  and  interests  must 
be  given  to  our  business  or  profession,  whatever  that  may 


40  THE  CUOWE  OF  BOOKS. 

be;  aud  in  few  instances  is  this  connected  with  literature. 
For  the  rest,  whatever  time  or  thought  a  man  can  spare 
from  his  calling  is  mostly  given  to  his  family,  or  to  society, 
or  to  some  hobby  which  is  not  literature.  And  love  of 
literature  is  not  seen  in  such  reading  as  is  common.  The 
literary  spirit  shows  itself,  as  I  said,  in  appreciatng  beauty 
of  expression;  and  how  far  beauty  of  expression  is  cared 
for  we  may  estimate  from  the  fact  that  few  people  think 
of  reading  anything  a  second  time.  The  ordinary  reader 
is  profoundly  inditt'erent  about  style,  and  will  not  take 
the  trouble  to  understand  ideas.  He  keeps  to  periodicals 
or  light  li(!tion,  which  enables  the  mind  to  loll  in  its  easy 
chair  (so  to  speak),  and  see  pass  before  it  a  series  of  pleas- 
ing images.  An  idea,  as  Mark  Pattison  says,  is  an  excit- 
ant, comes  from  mind  and  calls  forth  mind;  an  image  is 
a  sedative;  and  most  people,  when  they  take  up  a  book, 
are  seeking  a  sedative. 


EEMEMBERING   WHAT   ONE   READS. 

Scarcely  anything  more  annoys  readers  than  the  fact 
that  they  forget  so  much  of  what  they  have  read.  In 
history,  dates  and  names  pass  from  the  mind;  poems  that 
they  once  knew  by  heart  fade  away  from  recollection ;  and 
the  characters,  the  plots,  or  perhaps  the  very  titles  of 
stories,  which  were  once  fauiiliar,  depart  as  utterly  as 
though  they  had  never  been  known  at  all. 

In  connection  with  this  question  of  the  retention  or 
non-retention  of  what  one  reads,  it  should  never  be  for- 
gotten, as  was  remarked  in  the  preceding  chapter,  that 
God  has  evidently  arranged  the  powers  of  the  human  mind 
in  such  a  way  that  we  must  forget  a  great  deal,  however 
carefully  we  strive  to  remember  all  we  can.  A  large  part 
of  our  knowledge,  too,  is  to  be  considered  as  nutriment, 
or  as  intellectual  exercise;  and  we  should  no  more  lament 
over  its  loss  than  because  wo  do  not  remember  what  we 
had  for  breakfast  a  year  ago  to-day,  or  the  exact  length  of 
the  invigorating  walk  we  took  on  that  breezy  morning, 
week  before  last.  A  book  is  by  no  means  read  without 
profit  if  a  part,  or  even  the  whole  of  it,  be  forgotten  be- 
yond recall.  And  it  is  a  consolation  to  reflect  that  the 
very  best  use  to  which  some  of  our  past  reading  can  be 


REMEMBERING   WHAT  ONE  READS.  41 

put,  is  to  be  forgotten  as  speedily  as  possible.  If  we  bavo 
forgotten  some  tbings  tbat  were  good  and  pleasant,  we 
have  luckily  blotted  from  our  minds  not  a  little  tbat  was 
noxious  and  unattractive. 

But  a  "poor  memory"  is  a  thing  tbat  can  be  materially 
strengthened ;  and  after  all  reservations  have  been  made, 
we  should  not  forget  the  duty  of  remembering  all  we  really 
ought  to  remember,  so  far  as  the  natural  powers  of  our 
minds  will  permit.  The  first  and  the  last  aid  to  memory 
is  a  habit  of  paying  strict  attention  to  what  we  read. 
"Special  efforts  should  be  made  to  retain  what  is  gathered 
from  reading,"  says  President  Porter,  "if  any  such  efforts 
are  required.  Some  persons  read  with  an  interest  so 
wakeful  and  responsive,  and  an  attention  so  fixed  and 
energetic,  as  to  need  no  appliances  and  no  efforts  in  order 
to  retain  what  they  read.  They  look  upon  a  page,  and  it 
is  imprinted  upon  the  memory.  .  .  .  But  there  are 
others  who  read  only  to  lose  and  to  forget.  Facts  and 
truths,  words  and  thoughts,  are  alike  evanescent.  Ws 
shall  not  attempt  to  explain  here  the  nature  of  these  dif^ 
fereuces.  We  are  concerned  only  to  devise  the  remedy ; 
we  insist  that  those  who  labor  under  these  difficulties 
should  use  special  appliances  to  avoid  or  overcome  them. 
But  that  upon  which  we  insist  most  of  all,  is  tbat  what 
we  read  we  should  seek  to  make  our  own,  only  in  i\\i 
manner  and  after  the  measure  of  which  we  are  capable." 
President  Porter  then  goes  on  to  advise  each  reader  to 
follow  his  natural  bent  and  aptitudes;  not  to  worry,  if  he 
has  not  a  good  verbal  memory,  over  his  inability  to  re- 
member choice  phrases  or  striking  stanzas,  nor  to  vex  hi&. 
soul  over  his  failure  to  retain  names  and  dates.  "When 
a  man  reads,"  he  says,  "he  should  put  himself  into  the 
most  intimate  intercourse  with  his  author,  so  that  all  his 
energies  of  apprehension,  judgment  and  feeling  may  be 
occupied  with,  and  aroused  by,  what  his  author  furnishes, 
whatever  it  may  be.  If  repetition  or  review  will  aid  him 
in  this,  as  it  often  will,  let  him  not  disdain  or  neglect 
frequent  reviews.  If  the  use  of  the  pen,  in  brief  or  full 
notes,  in  catchwords  or  other  symbols,  will  aid  him,  let 
him  not  shrink  from  the  drudgery  of  the  pen  and  the 
commonplace.  .  .  .  But  there  is  no  charm  or  efficacy  in 
such  mechanism  by  itself.  It  is  only  valuable  as  a  means 
to  an  end,  and  that  end  is  to  quicken  the  intellectual 


42  IITR  cnOK'K  OF  BOOKS. 

energies  by  arousing  and  holding  the,  attention."  '*\Vhat 
a  man  wants  for  himself  in  memory,"  says  a  writer  in 
Blackwood's  Magazine,  "is  not  a  master-power  but  a  serv- 
ant: the  memory  that  keejDs  his  past  of  learning  and  expe- 
rience alive  in  him;  one  recognized  not  as  itself  but  by 
results." 

Philip  Gilbert  Hamerton  has  expressed  an  opinion  that 
what  is  called  a  "defective  memory"  is  by  no  means  an 
unmixed  evil.  He  says  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  "select- 
ing memory,  which  is  not  only  useful  for  what  it  retains, 
but  for  what  it  rejects."  What  really  interesis  us,  we  can 
usually  retain  without  recourse  to  any  elaborate  system  of 
mnemonics.  That  which  does  not  properly  interest  us 
we  cannot  thus  retain.  "Had  Goethe  been  a  poor  stu- 
dent," says  Mr.  Hamerton,  "bound  down  to  the  exclu- 
sively legal  studies,  Avhich  did  not  greatly  interest  him,  it 
is  likely  that  no  one  would  ever  have  suspected  his  im- 
mense faculty  of  assimilation.  In  this  way  men  who  are 
set  by  others  to  load  their  memories  with  what  is  not  their 
proper  intellectual  food,  never  get  the  credit  of  having 
any  memory  at  all,  and  end  by  themselves  believing  that 
they  have  none.  These  bad  memories  are  often  the  best; 
they  are  often  the  selecting  memories.  They  seldom  win 
distinction  in  examinations;  but  in  literature  and  art. 
They  are  quite  incomparably  superior  to  the  miscellaneous 
memories  that  receive  only  as  boxes  and  drawers  receive 
what  is  put  into  them.  A  good  literary  or  artistic  mem- 
ory is  not  like  a  post  office  that  takes  in  everything,  but 
like  a  very  well  edited  periodical  which  ]n'ints  nothing 
that  does  not  harmonize  with  its  intellectual  life." 

I  fully  believe  in  training  and  disciplining  and  develop- 
ing the  memory.  But  I  also  believe  that  the  very  essence 
of  that  training  is  the  cultivation  of  a  habit  of  friendli- 
ness, kinship,  intimacy,  close  apprehension  toward  the 
printed  page;  and  that  it  7iever  should  be  reduced  to  such 
miserable  mnemonic  devices  as  "l^arbara,"  "celerent," 
"Darii,"  "felapton" — I  remember  the  words,  but  1  have 
utterly  forgotten  what  they  were  designed  to  help  me  to 
remember — by  which  an  "association  of  ideas"  is  supposed 
to  be  brought  to  the  aid  of  a  treachei'ous  memory.  Such 
devices,  says  the  wise  writer  from  whom  I  have  just  quoted, 
are  like  tying  a  frying-pan  to  one  coat-tail  and  a  child's 
kite  to  another.     The  true  art  of  memory  is  the  art  of 


REMEMBEUlXa   V.'HA  T  ONE  HEADS.  43 

perceiving  the  relations  and  uses  of  tilings,  not  their  ex- 
ternal characteristics;  and  above  all,  not  their  artificial 
relations  to  some  essentially  foreign  object  or  symbol. 
The  purpose  of  memory  is  to  help  us,  when  a  memory- 
machine  fails  to  help  us,  and  cumbers  and  overshadows 
that  which  it  pretends  to  aid,  it  is  worse  than  worthless. 

Again,  it  should  be  kept  in  mind  that  no  one  brain  has 
a  right  to  tyrannize  over  another,  or  to  lay  down  laws  for 
it,  in  this  matter  of  memory.  For  instance,  I  myself 
remember  instinctively,  and  without  the  slightest  effort, 
the  name  of  the  author,  publisher,  and  printer  of  what- 
ever book  I  take  in  my  hand,  and  also  its  size,  shape,  color 
of  binding,  and  style  of  typography.  Two  or  three  read- 
ings of  a  college  catalogue  leave  upon  my  mind  the  sur- 
names. Christian  names,  and  residences  of  a  majority  of 
the  persons  there  recorded.  Guide  books  and  city  direc- 
tories are  a  rest  and  recreation  to  me;  the  names,  loca- 
tions, and  pastors  of  the  majority  of  all  the  churches  in 
the  cities  1  have  visited  are  retained  in  mind  without 
effort;  and  frequently,  when  visiting  a  town  for  the  first 
time,  this  habit  of  memory  leads  me  to  be  considered  a 
local  antiquary  and  specialist.  Now  these  things  seem  so 
natural  to  me,  and  are  acquired  so  absolutely  without 
effort  of  any  kind,  that  I  can  hardly  understand  why 
every  one  else  does  not  remember  them  equally  well.  But  I 
have  not  the  slightest  right  to  prescribe  a  course  of  guide- 
books, college  catalogues,  or  city  directories  for  others, 
any  more  than  they  have  to  demand  that  I  recite  Cole- 
ridge's "Ancient  Mariner,"  or  give  the  dates  of  the  Third 
Panic  War,  or  the  signing  of  the  Magna  Charta,  or  Brad- 
dock's  defeat,  which  I  remember  with  as  much  difficulty 
as  any  reader  of  this  chapter.  In  other  words,  no  one  has 
a  right  to  insist  that  another  person  shall  remember  as  or 
wl/at  he  himself  remembers.  But  it  should  alwai/s  be 
demanded  of  every  reader  that  he  conscientiously  try  to 
strengthen  his  memory  by  seeking  to  understand  the 
nature  and  purpose  of  what  he  reads;  its  serviceableness 
to  himself,  and  to  the  world  through  him;  and  its  rela- 
tions to  his  particular  mental  constitution  and  his  wise 
intellectual  regimen. 

This  diversity  of  memories  is  admirably  stated  by  Car- 
dinal Newman.  "  We  can,"  he  says,  "form  an  abstract  idea 
of  memory,  and  call  it  one  faculty  which  has  for  its  sub- 


44  THE  VIIOIVE  OF  BOOKS. 

ject  matter  all  i^ast  facts  of  our  personal  experience;  but 
this  is  really  only  an  illusion;  for  there  is  no  such  gift  of 
universal  memory.  Of  course  we  all  remember  in  a  way,  as 
we  »eason,  in  all  subject-matters;  but  1  am  speaking  of 
remembering  rightly,  as  I  spoke  of  reasoning  rightly.  lu 
real  facts  memory,  as  a  talent,  is  not  one  indivisible  fac- 
ulty, but  a  power  of  retaining  and  recalling  the  past  iu 
this  or  that  department  of  our  experience,  not  in  any 
whatever.  Two  memories,  which  are  both  specially  re- 
tentive, may  also  be  incommensurate.  Some  men  can 
recite  the  canto  of  a  poem,  or  good  part  of  a  speech,  after 
once  reading  it,  but  have  no  head  for  dates.  Others  have 
great  capacity  for  the  vocabulary  of  languages,  but  recol- 
lect nothing  of  the  small  occurrences  of  the  day  or  year. 
Others  never  forget  any  statement  which  they  have  read, 
and  can  give  volume  and  page,  but  have  no  memory  for 
faces.  I  have  known  those  who  could,  without  effort, 
run  through  the  succession  of  days  on  which  Easter  fell 
for  years  back;  or  could  say  where  they  were,  or  what 
they  were  doing,  on  a  given  day  in  a  given  year;  or  could 
recollect  the  Christian  names  of  friends  and  strangers;  or 
could  enumerate  in  exact  order  the  names  on  all  the  shops 
from  Hyde  Park  corner  to  the  Bank;  or  had  so  mastered 
the  University  Calendar  as  to  be  able  to  bear  an  examina- 
tion in  the  academical  history  of  any  M.A.  taken  at  ran- 
dom. And  1  believe  in  most  of  these  cases  the  talent,  in 
its  exceptional  character,  did  not  extend  beyond  several 
classes  of  subjects.  There  are  a  hundred  memories  as 
there  are  a  hundred  virtues." 


THE  USE   OF   NOTE-BOOKS. 

A  separate  chapter  on  the  use  of  note-books  would 
hardly  be  necessary,  in  this  series  of  papers  on  right 
methods  of  reading,  were  it  not  that  many  people  so  mis- 
apprehend the  real  service  of  note-books  and  make  them 
a  burden  rather  than  a  help.  Note-books,  like  all  other 
aids  to  reading,  and  reflection,  and  the  utilization  of 
knowledge,  should  be  valued  for  the  true  assistance  they 
may  render,  and  for  that  alone.  But  it  very  often  hap- 
pens that  one  who  is  beginning  to  read  comes  to  the  con- 
clusion that  method  in  reading,  especially  iu  the  preserva- 


THE  USE  OF  NOTE-BOOKS.  45 

tion  of  its  results,  is  the  one  thing  essential,  and  that 
nothing  is  so  useful,  toward  this  end,  as  an  elaborate  note- 
book system.  Therefore  he  purchases  a  large  alphabetized 
blank-book,  and  having  begun  to  read  "Taine's  English 
Literature,"  let  us  say,  he  makes  elaborate  entries  of  mat- 
ters contained  in  the  first  few  chapters.  But  as  his  note- 
book must  also  record  everything  that  impresses  him  as 
likely  to  have  any  future  usefulness,  he  sets  down  with 
equal  painstaking  the  leading  points  of  an  article  in  the 
last  Atlantic  Monthly,  or  copies  entire  an  interesting  par- 
agraph from  the  Springfield  Republican.  After  a  few 
days,  or  perhaps  weeks,  he  finds  it  inconvenient  to  hunt 
up  note-book,  pen,  and  ink,  every  time  he  takes  a  volume 
in  his  hand,  and  so  he  gradually  lessens  the  number  of 
entries;  thus  the  book  soon  becomes  an  unserviceable  and 
unusued  chronicle  of  a  few  straggling  facts — to  be  re- 
manded to  the  closet-shelf,  or  to  be  cut  up,  at  last,  for 
scribbling  paper.  In  the  end,  such  a  note-book  becomes 
a  weight  and  an  incumbrance  upon  the  reading  habit, 
rather  than  a  helper  to  it. 

A  note-book,  then,  should  be  started  upon  a  plan  too 
modest  rather  than  too  ambitious,  and  should  never  be 
allowed  to  get  above  the  humble  place  of  a  servant.  One 
little  blank-book,  costing  a  dime,  is  far  more  useful,  if 
employed  only  for  the  entry  of  important  references  or 
memoranda,  and  such  only,  than  the  most  elaborate  index 
rerum  or  commonplace  book,  if  made  too  cumbersome  to 
be  of  real  serivce.  And  it  is  generally  true  that  a  note- 
book should  follow  the  reading  habit  rather  than  precede 
it.  If  you  have  not  done  something  toward  filling  your 
brain  first,  do  not  expect  to  make  up  the  deficiency  by 
your  note-book  entries. 

Some  readers  and  writers  make  little  use  of  note-books  and 
some  find  them  extremely  serviceable.  Mr.  W.  A.  Hovey, 
the  editor  of  the  Boston  Evening  Transcript,  says  in  one 
of  his  "Causerie"  papers:  "The  brain  is  the  best  and 
most  reliable  memorandum  book;  it  is  always  at  hand;  use 
enlarges  its  capacity  and  increases  its  usefulness  and  relia- 
bility, and  no  one  can  read  it  but  its  owner."  I  must  say 
that  for  one,  I  quite  agree  with  Mr.  Hovey;  finding  all 
sorts  of  memorandum  books  of  little  use  to  me,  and  em- 
ploying nothing  more  than  the  most  inexpensive  pocket 
blank-books,   to  be   torn  up  when    their  usefulness  ha? 


46  ■  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

passed ;  or  now  aud  theu  a  series  of  envelopes,  with  their 
special  subjects  written  npon  them.  But  in  this  matter 
it  is  especially  true  that  no  one  reader  cac  lay  down  the 
law  for  anotlier.  Some  of  the  wisest  of  American  authors 
have  pursued  to  the  fullest  extent  the  plan  of  using  note- 
books all  their  lives,  and  with  admirable  results.  Mr. 
Emerson's  note-books  are  famous  the  world  over,  and  it  is 
said,  doubtless  with  entire  truth,  that  some  of  his  most 
euowned  essays  are  little  more  than  transcripts  of  them. 
His  entries  of  course  include  his  own  conclusions  and  re- 
tiections  as  well  as  those  of  others.  It  was  my  good 
fortune  to  be  permitted  to  see,  some  years  ago,  the  re- 
markable and  substantially  similar  methods  by  which  two 
other  American  authors — Mr.  A.  Bronson  Alcott  and  the 
Eev.  Dr.  Ray  Palmer — have  preserved  well-nigh  the  entire 
body  of  the  letters  they  have  received  in  the  whole  course 
of  tlieir  literary  lives.  In  both  cases  these  valuable  libraries 
of  correspondence  reach  to  a  long  file  of  volumes;  and  Mr. 
Alcott  has  combined  with  his  a  diary  of  each  day's  events 
for  a  lifetime.  Such  collections  as  these  are  in  a  true 
sense  monumental,  aud  amount,  at  length,  to  valuable 
contributions  to  the  intellectual  history  of  the  time.  The 
Rev.  Joseph  Cook's  note-book  system  is  also  worthy  of 
mention  here.  Mr.  Cook  uses  newspaper  cuttings  freely, 
but  it  should  be  remarked  that  he  follows  strictly  the 
habit  of  throwing  away  what  he  does  not  really  want,  and 
of  making  his  memoranda  in  the  simplest  manner,  with  a 
view  to  use  only.  Mr.  Cook  extends  his  annotations  to 
his  bound  volumes.  "I  have  learned,"  he  says,  "to  rely 
CD  the  margins  of  the  books  that  I  read  as  being  them- 
selves my  best  note-books.  Of  course  I  am  speaking  now 
only  of  the  volumes  which  are  my  own  property.  These 
I  am  perhaps  scandalously  free  in  marking,  and  so  every 
ordinary  volume  that  I  have  in  my  library  becomes  a  note- 
book." Mr.  Cook  marks  tliree  grades  of  praise  on  the 
outside  margins  of  his  books,  and  three  of  blame  on  the 
inside  margins.  Mr.  Beecher  does  not  use  note-books 
himself,  but  advises  young  men  to  get  into  the  habit  of 
using  them.  "The  great  ])oiut,"  says  he,  "is  to  read 
nothing  without  reflection,"  and  with  this  the  Concord 
philosophcis,  the  sacred  poet,  and  the  religio-scieLtific 
lecturer  wouhl  fully  agree. 
The  late  William  B.  Reed,  one  of  the  best  American 


THE  USE  OF  NOTE-BOOKS.  47 

writers  of  purely  literary  essays,  says  of  the  right  nse  of 
priuted  quotation  books  what  is  in  large  part  applicable  to 
written  ones:  "As  in  every  house,  we  are  told,  there  is  a 
skeleton,  and  in  every  doctor's  shop  a  case  of  instruments 
for  emergencies,  mysteriously  veiled  from  vulgar  gaze,  so 
in  all  libraries,  aud  especially  if  it  be  one  of  a  writer  or 
public  speaker,  are  there  corners  where  are  put  away  for 
convenient  use,  not  only  commonplace  books,  happily  out 
of  date,  but  indexes  rerum,  and  "Burton's  Anatomy,'' 
and  "Murray's  Handbooks  for  Geographical  Illustration,'' 
and  lexicons  and  concordances  (all  honors  to  those  immor- 
-tal  C's,  Cruden  and  Mrs.  Cowden  Clarke),  a  thesaurus  or 
two  and  finally  "dictionaries  of  quotations."  It  depends 
very  much  npon  their  nature  whether  such  dictionaries 
are  good  or  bad.  The  young  student  uses  them,  and  for 
this  end  they  were  first  devised,  to  furnish  him  with  quo- 
tations with  which  to  garnish  what  he  writes,  and  show 
his  scholarship.  This  is  spurious.  It  is,  the  poet  tells 
us,  the  page  of  knowledge  which  is  'rich  with  the  spoils 
of  time.'  It  is  out  of  the  depths  of  a  full  mind  that 
bright  literary  illustrations  bubble  up  to  the  surface  and 
any  critical  eye  can  detect  without  fail  a  got-up  quotation, 
or  one  which  a  mere  dictionary  supplies.  Not  so  the  'dic- 
tionary,' as  it  were,  which  aids  memory,  and,  given  a 
fragment  or  sometimes  even  a  word,  enables  the  scholar  to 
find  the  context.  They  are  not  merely  valuable,  but,  as 
auxiliaries,  they  are  essential  to  complete  literary  work." 
So  it  is  with  written  note-books;  they  cannot  take  the 
place  of  thought;  but  they  can  strengthen  and  arm  it." 

Professor  W.  P.  Atkinson,  of  the  Massachusetts  Insti- 
tute of  Technology,  speaks  warmly  of  the  use  of  note- 
books, in  his  published  lecture  on  reading.  "I  cannot 
close,"  says  he,  "without  giving  you  one  little  piece  of 
purely  practical  advice.  I  advise  you  all  to  become  what 
I  am  myself,  a  devoted  disciple  of  Captain  Cuttle,  and  to 
bind  on  your  brows  his  admirable  maxim,  'When  found, 
make  a  note  of.'  Witty  old  Thomas  Fuller  says:  'Adven- 
ture not  all  thy  learning  in  one  bottom,  but  divide  it 
between  thy  memory  aud  thy  note-books.  ...  A 
commonplace  book  contains  many  notions  in  garrison, 
whence  an  owner  may  draw  out  an  army  into  the  field  on 
competent  warning. '  This  is  one  of  those  notions  which 
I  have  kept  in  the  garrison  of  my  note-book  for  manv 


48  TUE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

years.  The  great  secret  of  reading  consists  in  this,  that 
it  does  not  matter  so  much  what  we  read  or  how  we  read 
it,  as  what  we  think  and  how  we  think  it.  Eeading  is 
only  the  fuel;  and,  the  mind  once  on  fire,  any  and  all 
material  will  feed  the  flame,  provided  only  it  have  any 
combustible  matter  in  it.  And  we  cannot  tell  from  what 
quarter  the  next  material  will  come.  The  thought  we 
need,  the  facts  we  are  in  search  of,  may  make  their  ap- 
pearance in  the  corner  of  the  newspaper,  or  in  some  for- 
gotten volume  long  ago  consigned  to  dust  and  oblivion. 
Hawthorne,  in  the  parlor  of  a  country  inn,  on  a  rainy 
day,  could  find  mental  nutriment  in  an  old  directory. 
That  accomplished  philologist,  the  late  Lord  Strangford 
could  find  ample  amusement  for  an  hour's  delay  at  a  rail- 
way station  in  tracing  out  the  etymology  of  the  names  in 
Bradshaw.  The  mind  that  is  not  awake  and  alive  will 
find  a  library  a  barren  wilderness.  Now,  gather  up  the 
scraps  and  fragments  of  thought  on  whatever  subject  you 
may  be  studying — for  of  course  by  a  note-book  I  do  not 
mean  a  mere  receptacle  for  odds  and  ends,  a  literary  dust- 
bin— but  acquire  the  habit  of  gathering  everything  when- 
ever and  wherever  you  find  it,  that  belongs  in  your  line  or 
lines  of  study,  and  you  will  be  surprised  to  see  how  such 
fragments  will  arrange  themselves  into  an  orderly  whole 
by  the  very  organizing  power  of  your  own  thinking-,  acting 
in  a  definite  direction.  This  is  a  true  process  of  self- 
education;  but  you  see  it  is  no  mechanical  process  of  mere 
aggregation.  It  requires  activity  of  thought — but  with- 
out that,  what  is  any  reading  but  mere  passive  amusement? 
And  it  requires  method.  I  have  myself  a  sort  of  literary 
book-keeping.  I  keep  a  day-book,  and  at  my  leisure  I 
post  my  literary  accounts,  bringing  together  in  proper 
groups  the  fruits  of  much  casual  reading." 

I  may  appropriately  close  this  chapter  with  some  valu- 
able words  of  advice  on  the  use  of  note-books,  which  Mr. 
Charles  A.  Durfee,  a  competent  authority  on  the  subject, 
has  kindly  written  for  the  benefit  of  my  readers.  "Note- 
books," says  Mr.  Durfee,  "are  to  literary  men  what  books 
of  account  are  to  business  men,  and  are  practically  useful 
only  as  they  are  kept  systematically  and  with  unity  of  pur- 
])ose.  But  where  a  balance-sheet  tells  the  whole  story  in 
business,  some  methodical  plan  must  be  substituted  to 
render  the  contents  of  note-books  available  at  all  times. 


THE  USE  OF  NOTE-BOOKS.  49 

The  natural  desire  on  the  part  of  energetic  literary  men 
to  economize  time  and  labor  in  the  taking  and  keeping  of 
notes  leads  to  confusion,  and  in  time  they  find  themselves 
surrounded  by  a  mass  of  material  disheartening  to  think 
of  and  impossible  to  consult  with  readiness. 

"A  few  suggestions  resulting  from  long  experience  may 
be  of  value.  Xote-books  should  not  be  so  small  as  to 
become  too  numerous,  or  so  large  as  to  be  cumbersome. 
Each  book  sliould  be  paged  and  have  a  volume  number. 
An  underscored  heading  should  precede  each  note  with 
dividing  lines  between  entries.  By  observing  these  pre- 
cautions the  books  can  be  indexed  in  an  alphabeted  blank- 
book,  and  consulted  as  if  they  were  the  successive  volumes 
of  any  indexed  work.  For  ordinary  purposes  such  a  plan 
would  be  sufficient,  but  those  whose  lives  are  devoted  to 
general  literature  or  special  branches  re'quire  to  give  more 
attention  to  details.  No  blank-book  index  can  long  re- 
main couveuient,  as  the  entries  lose  their  alphabetical 
place. 

"To  obviate  this,  for  permanent  use,  a  card-index  is 
indispensable,  being  always  perfect  in  arrangement,  inas- 
much as  the  newly-made  cards  are  inserted  in  their  precise 
positions.  In  the  case  of  blank-book  indexes  this  is  im- 
possible as  soon  as  a  few  titles  have  been  interlined,  which 
defaces  and  obscures  the  page.  Cards  cut  from  heavy 
manilla  paper  arranged  in  boxes  or  trays,  separated  by 
lettered  divisions  of  cardboard  projecting  above  the  rest, 
form  an  index,  which,  from  its  expansiveness,  cheapness, 
and  portability,  meets  every  requirement. 

"A  card  measuring  two  inches  by  five  inches  has  been 
generally  adopted  in  our  leading  libraries  for  such  pur- 
poses. Such  a  system  renders  unnecessary  the  keeping  of 
separate  note-books  for  dilTerent  subjects,  as  a  properly 
prepared  index  will  be  classified  under  adequate  headings, 
and  serve  as  a  guide  and  summary  to  the  entire  literary 
matter,  however  extensive,  of  the  most  industrious 
workers." 


60  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  TASTE. 

Taste  can  be  cultivated.  This  remark,  one  would  say, 
is  of  obvious  truth,  and  needs  no  discussion  whatever ; 
but,  in  point  of  fact,  scarcely  anything  related  to  the  read- 
ing habit  is  more  frequently  ignored  or  practically  denied. 
"  I  have  no  taste  for  poetry;"  *'  I  never  could  enjoy  his- 
tory;" *'  Biography  may  be  very  well,  but  I  never  could 
read  it;"  ''I  suppose  Walter  Scott  and  George  Eliot  are 
more  profitable  reading  than  G.  P.  R.  James  or  Miss 
Braddon,  but  my  taste  prefers  the  latter  ;" — such  remarks 
as  these  are  sure  to  encounter  one  who  is  seeking  to  raise 
the  standard  of  reading.  Forgetting  that  growth  and 
development  are  the  almost  unvarying  method  of  nature 
in  every  line,  too  many  people  piofess  to  believe,  and  cer- 
tainly act  as  though  thy  believe,  that  a  present  literary 
taste  is  an  inflexible  and  unalterable  thing,  to  be  accepted 
without  question,  and  no  more  to  be  changed  by  us  than 
our  residence  upon  the  earth  instead  of  upon  the  moon. 

Lord  Lyttou  is  not  an  author  to  whom  I  am  accustomed 
to  look  for  the  highest  conceptions  of  life  or  the  wisest 
rules  for  its  conduct ;  but  on  this  subject  of  the  cultiva- 
tion of  taste  he  puts  some  excellent  words  into  the  mouth 
of  one  of  the  characters  of  his  novels,  who  explains  that 
good  sense  and  good  taste  are  the  result  of  a  constant 
habit  of  riglit  thinking  and  acting  ;  of  self  denial  ;  and  of 
regulation  rather  than  accident  or  natural  temperament. 
"  Good  sense,"  says  he,  "  is  not  a  merely  intellectual 
attribute.  It  is  rather  the  result  of  a  just  equilibrium  of 
all  our  faculties,  spiritual  and  moral.  The  dishonest,  or 
the  toys  of  their  own  passions,  may  have  genius  ;  but  they 
rarely,  if  ever,  have  good  sense  in  the  conduct  of  life. 
They  may  often  win  large  prizes,  but  it  is  by  a  game  of 
chance,  not  skill.  But  the  man  whom  I  perceive  walking 
an  honorable  and  upright  career,  just  to  others  and  also 
to  himself,  ....  is  a  more  dignified  representative 
of  his  Maker  than  the  mere  child  of  genius.  Of  such  a 
man,  we  say,  he  has  good  sense  ;  yes,  but  he  has  also 
integrity,  self-respect  and  self-denial.  A  thousand  trials 
which  his  sense  braves  and  conquers,  are  temptations  also 
to  his  probity,  his  temper  ;  in  a  word,  to  all  the  many 
Bides  of  his  complicated  nature.     Now,  I  do  not  think  he 


THE  C UL  Tl  VA  TION  OF  TA  STB.  51 

will  have  this  good  sense  any  more  than  a  drunkard  will 
have  strong  nerves,  unless  he  be  in  the  constant  habit  of 
keeping  his  mind  clear  from  the  intoxication  of  envy, 
vanity,  and  the  various  emotions  that  dupe  and  mislead  us. 
Good  sense  is  not,  tlierefore,  an  abstract  quality,  or  a  solitary 
talent;  it  is  the  natural  result  of  the  habit  of  thinking 
justly,  and,  therefore,  seeing  clearly,  and  is  as  different 
from  the  sagacity  that  belongs  to  a  diplomatist  or  an 
attorney  as  the  philosophy  of  Socrates  differed  from  the 
rheotoric  of  Gorgias.  As  a  mass  of  individual  excellences 
make  up  this  attribute  in  a  man,  so  a  mass  of  such  men 
ithus  characterized  give  a  character  to  a  nation.  Your 
England  is,  therefore,  renowned  for  its  good  sense,  but  it 
is  renowned  also  for  the  excellences  which  accompany 
strong  sense  in  an  individual:  high  honesty  and  faith  in  its 
dealings,  a  warm  love  of  justice  and  fair  play,  a  general 
freedom  from  the  violent  crimes  common  on  the  Continent, 
and  the  energetic  perseverance  in  enterprise  once  com- 
menced, which  results  from  a  bold  and  heathful  dis- 
position." 

A  bold  and  healthful  disposition,  such  as  Lord  Lytton 
thus  ascribed  to  his  typical  Englishman,  is  ever  on  the 
watch  for  something  better  rather  than  something  worse; 
for  something  that  will  develop  and  strengthen,  rather 
than  something  that  will  merely  pass  muster.  So  it  is  in 
the  choice  of  books,  "  It  is  nearly  an  axiom,  that  people 
will  not  be  better  than  the  books  they  read,"  says  Bishop 
Potter.  If  a  person  never  strives  "to  look  up  and  not  down," 
in  his  selection  of  books,  he  need  not  expect  to  see  any 
improvement  in  his  intellectual  faculties  or  in  his  personal 
character  so  far  as  influenced  by  those  faculties.  President 
Porter  well  says:  "Inspiration,  genius,  individual  tastes, 
elective  affinities,  do  not  necessarily  include  self-knowl- 
edge, self-criticism,  or  self-control.  If  the  genius  of  a 
man  lies  in  the  development  of  the  individual  person  that 
he  is,  his  manhood  lies  in  finding  out  by  self-study  what 
he  is  and  what  he  may  become,  and  in  wisely  using  the 
means  that  are  fitted  to  form  and  perfect  his  individuality." 
The  person  who  reads  as  he  ought  to  read,  therefore,  will 
try  to  discover  what  his  best  intellectual  nature  is  now,  and 
what  it  may  grow  to  be  in  time  to  come.  He  will  seek  to 
add  strength  and  facility  to  his  mind,  and  he  will  con- 
stantly  strive    to    correct    such    tendencies   as  he   finds 


52  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

injurious  or  not  positively  beneficial,  substituting  therefor, 
as  soon  as  may  be,  a  liigher  purpose  and  a  more  creditable 
achiement. 

We  must  learn  to  know  books,  as  we  learn  to  know  other 
good  things.  "  Who  can  overestimate  the  value  of  good 
books," — ask  Professor  W.  P.  Atkinson, — "  those  ships  of 
thought,  as  Bacon  so  finely  calls  them,  voyaging  through 
the  sea  of  time,  and  carrying  their  precious  freight  so 
safely  from  generation  to  generation!  Here  are  the  finest 
minds  giving  us  the  best  wisdom  of  present  and  all  past 
ages;  here  are  intellects  gifted  far  beyond  ours,  ready  to 
give  us  the  results  of  lifetimes  of  patient  thought;  imag- 
inations open  to  the  beauty  of  tl)e  universe,  far  beyond  what 
it  is  given  us  to  behold  characters  whom  we  can  only  vainly 
hope  to  imitate,  but  whom  it  is  one  of  the  highest  privil- 
eges of  life  to  know.  Here  they  all  are;  and  to  learu  to 
know  them  is  the  privilege  of  the  educated  man." 

We  cannot  come  to  know  them  by  accident,  or  by  rely- 
ing on  past  habitudes.  "  When  I  became  a  man,"  said 
Saint  Paul,  "  I  put  away  childish  things:"  and  so  must 
the  manly  reader  put  away  the  childish  habit  of  reading 
story-books  alone,  or  looking  at  pictures,  or  preferring 
amusement  to  instruction  and  mental  development.  Too 
many  readers — one  is  tempted  to  say  the  majority  of 
readers — never  get  beyond  the  picture-book  stage;  and, 
indeed,  there  are  men  and  women  in  the  world  who  read 
fewer  books  and  poorer  books  than  when  they  were  little 
children. 

Not  only  in  the  selection  of  books,  but  in  the  reading  of 
them,  must  one's  clioice  be  guided,  and  so  far  as  may  be, 
elevated.  I  will  quote  here  some  sound  advice  offered  by 
The  Literary  World,  of  Boston:  "Almost  every  article  of 
food  has  its  poison;  and  a  most  important  function  of  our 
internal  economy  consists  in  its  intelligent  discrimination 
between  the  good  and  the  evil;  its  careful  assimilation  of 
the  good,  and  its  rigorous  rejection  of  the  evil.  The  good 
it  gathers  into  the  vessels  which  are  the  storehouse  of  life, 
but  the  bad  it  casts  away.  The  peach  with  its  prussicacid, 
the  pie-plant  with  its  oxalic  acid,  tea  with  its  tannic  acid, 
the  tomato  and  even  the  potato,  each  with  its  own  delete- 
rious ingredient,  are  all  illustrations  of  substances  which 
coniaiu  what,  in  sufficient  quantities,  might  be  the  death 
of  man,  were  he  not  provided  with  the  jiowcr  of  separating 


THE  CULTIVATIOX  OF  TASTE.  53 

between  the  forces  of  death  atul  life.  Were  it  not  for  the 
safeguards  which  we  invokiutarily  practice  we  could  not 
eat  with  safety  half  the  things  which  now  not  only  feed 
the  body  but  gratify  the  taste.  Something  very  like  this 
power  is  needed  with  respect  to  the  books  we  read.  Our 
minds  should  cultivate  the  gift,  in  keeping  with  that  of 
our  physical  organs  within,  whereby,  feasting  upon  the 
rich  and  varied  diet  with  which  they  are  supplied,  they 
may  reserve  only  what  is  nutritious,  or  palatable,  without 
being  harmful,  and  at  the  same  time  throw  off  what  is 
calculated  to  offend  and  injure.  Few  books  can  be  men- 
tioned in  the  general  departments  of  literature  which  do 
not,  like  the  foods  we  have  mentioned  above,  contain  the 
good  and  the  bad  combined.  History  is  full  of  dangerous 
episodes,  biography  of  specious  examples,  poetry  of  inflam- 
ing imaginings,  and  fiction  of  demoralizing  license.  And 
yet  the  worst  of  the  books  that  are  notoriously  bad  prob- 
ably have  some  good  in  them;  pictures  which  may  be 
looked  upon  without  harm,  and  lessons  which  it  Avould  be 
profitable  to  learn.  A  great  art  in  reading,  then,  one 
which  should  be  inculcated  in  theory,  and  in  the  practice 
of  which  the  oldest  and  wisest  of  us  should  constantly  be 
drilling  ourselves,  is  this  art  of  so  carrying  the  mind  along 
the  paths  of  another's  thought  that  it  shall  retain  only  the 
good  and  the  true  and  the  beautiful,  while  the  bad  and  the 
false  and  the  repulsive  shall  instantly  pass  out  of  sight  and 
recollection.  Only  as  we  are  masters  of  this  art  are  we 
safe  in  the  midst  of  the  perils  to  which  reading  exposes  us; 
and  in  this  art,  which  may  be  settled  by  practice  into  a 
habit,  our  youth  particularly  should  be  zealously  educated. '^ 
The  great  authors  are  the  good  authors,  in  whom  feeble- 
ness, or  coarseness,  or  whimsicality,  or  meanness  and 
malice,  are  accidental  rather  than  essential.  When  we 
are  reading  the  master-books  we  need  reject  little;  we  can 
absorb  much.  And  in  our  highest  and  truest  moments 
we  may  share  their  greatness  and  stand,  so  to  speak,  on 
their  level;  for  it  is  the  aijpi'ehension  of  greatness  that 
makes  it  great  for  us;  and  this  very  apprehension  is  an 
honor  to  us,  and  the  measure  of  our  own  powers  and  at- 
tainments. Emerson  does  not  make  an  overstatement  when 
he  says:  "  There  is  something  of  poverty  in  our  criticism. 
We  assume  that  there  are  few  great  men,  all  the  rest  are 
little;  that  there  is  but  one  Homer,  but  one  Shakespeare,  one 


54  THE  VIIOICE  OF  B()0R8. 

Newton,  one  Socrates.  But  the  soul  in  lier  beaming  hour 
floes  not  acknowledge  these  usurpations.  We  shonld  know 
how  to  praise  Socrates,  or  Plato,  or  Saint  John,  without 
impoverishing  us.  In  good  hours  we  do  not  tind  Shake- 
speare or  Homer  over-great — only  to  have  been  translators 
of  the  liapp}^  present — and  every  man  and  woman  divine 
possibilities.  'Tis  the  good  reader  that  makes  the  good 
book;  a  good  head  cannot  read  amiss;  in  every  book  he 
finds  passages  which  seem  confidences  or  asides  hidden  from 
all  else  and  unmistakably  meant  for  his  ear. 

And  behind  the  book  stands  the  author:  if  the  reader 
chooses  the  book  or  the  chapter  as  he  ought,  he  shares  the 
author's  best  self  and  best  hours;  he  associates  with  a  hero 
rather  than  a  dandy,  with  an  intellectual  giant,  not  a 
dwarf;  and  thereby  he  shows  to  what  his  own  tastes  have 
grown.  There  is  truth  and  wisdom  in  the  aged  Victor 
Hugo's  curious  and  Frenchy,  but  grave  and  deep-felt,  pre- 
face to  the  recently  made  edition  of  his  complete  works: 
"Every  man  who  writes  a  book;  that  book  is  himself. 
Whether  he  knows  it  or  not,  whether  he  wishes  it  or  not, 
it  is  so.  From  every  work,  whatever  it  may  be,  mean  or 
illustrious,  there  is  shaped  a  figure,  that  of  the  writer.  It 
is  his  punishment  if  he  be  small;  it  is  his  recompense  if 
he  be  great.  If  we  read  of  the  siege  of  Troy,  we  see 
Achilles,  Hector,  Ulysses,  Ajax,  Agamemnon;  we  feel 
throughout  the  entire  work  a  majesty  which  is  that  of  the 
writer.  Has  Zoilus  written?  Let  us  examine  what  he 
has  left.  He  was  a  grammarian,  a  con)mentator,  a  glos- 
earist;  in  every  line  we  read:  Zoilus.  But  when  the 
*  Iliad  '  is  open  before  you,  you  hear  the  voice  of  the  cen- 
turies say:  Homer.  In  the  same  manner  appear  to  us 
^Eschylus,  Aristophanes,  Herodotus.  Pindar,  Theocritus, 
Plautus,  Virgil,  Horace,  .Juvenal,  Tacitus,  Dante.  It  is 
the  same  with  the  little;  but  why  name  them?  The  book 
exists;  it  is  what  the  author  has  made  it;  it  is  history; 
philosophy,  an  epic;  it  belongs  to  the  loftiest  regions  of 
art;  it  dwells  in  the  lower  regions;  it  is  what  he  is;  un- 
combined,  insulated,  arising  forever  by  his  side,  is  this 
shadow  of  himself,  the  figure  of  the  author.  Only  at  the 
close  of  a  long  life,  laborious  and  stormy,  given  wholly  to 
thought  and  to  action,  do  these  truths  reveal  themselves. 
Ilesponsibility,  the  inseparable  companion  of  liberty,  shows 
itself.      The   man   who  traces  these   lines   comprehends 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  TASTE.  55 

them.  He  is  calm.  As  immovable  as  if  before  the  Infi- 
nite, he  is  not  troubled.  To  all  tlie  questions  which 
ignorance  may  propound  he  has  but  one  reply:  1  am  a 
conscience.  'Phis  reply  every  man  can  make  or  has  made. 
If  he  has  made  it  with  all  the  cantlor  of  a  sincere  soul, 
that  suffices.  As  to  him,  feeble,  ignorant,  confined,  but 
having  endeavored  to  seek  the  good,  he  will  say  witliont 
fear  to  the  great  darkness,  he  will  say  to  the  nnknovvn,  he 
will  say  to  the  mystery:  I  am  a  conscience.  And  he  will 
seem  to  feel  the  unity  of  the  life  universal  in  the  complete 
tranquillity  of  that  whicli  is  most  simple  before  that  which 
is  most  profonnd.  There  is  a  supreme  talent  which  is 
often  given  alone,  which  requires  none  other,  which  is 
often  concealed,  and  which  has  often  more  power  the 
more  it  is  hidden:  this  talent  is  esteem.  Of  the  value  of 
the  work  here  given  in  its  entirety  to  the  public,  the 
future  must  decide.  But  that  which  is  certain,  that 
which  at  present  contents  the  author,  is  that  iu  these  times 
where  we  are,  in  this  tumult  of  opinions,  in  the  violence  of 
prejudice,  whatever  may  be  the  passions,  the  anger,  the 
hate,  no  reader,  whoever  he  may  be,  if  he  be  himself 
worthy  of  esteem,  can  consider  the  book  without  an 
estimate  of  the  author." 

As  I  have  said  in  a  preceding  chapter,  the  cultivation  of 
taste  is  not  hastened,  but  is  seriously  retarded,  by  pretend- 
ing that  one  likes  what  he  does  not  like.  Sincerity  and 
honesty  are  essential,  no  matter  how  low  may  be  the 
present  taste,  or  how  serious  the  problem  of  elevating  it. 
Nothing  is  gained  by  attempting  to  deceive  others,  or 
one's  self,  in  the  matter.  The  very  expression  of  a  low 
or  degraded  taste  stimulates  one  to  endeavor  to  raise  it; 
whereas  deceit  or  pretense  are  pretty  sure  to  be  transpar- 
ent, and  are  even  more  injurious  when  successful  tlian 
when  they  fail  to  deceive.  A  wholesome  ignorance  can 
easily  be  lifted  above  its  former  level;  but  of  silly  false- 
hood there  is  much  less  hope.  A  recent  writer  on  ''  Sham 
Admiration  in  Literature"  has  said  that  there  is  "  a  well- 
nigh  univei'sal  habit  of  literary  lying — of  a  pretense  of 
admiration  for  certain  works  of  which  in  reality  we  know 
very  little,  and  for  which,  if  we  knew  more,  we  should 
perhaps  care  less.  There  are  certain  books  which  are 
standard,  and  as  it  were  planted  in  the  British  soil, 
before  which  the  great  majority  of  us  bow  the  knee  and 


50  Till-:  (TlolCE  OF  JlDOKS. 

doff  the  cap  witli  a  reverence  that,  in  its  ignorance,  re- 
minds ouc  of  fetish  worsliip,  and,  in  its  affectation,  of  tlie 
passion  for  high  art.  The  works  without  which,  we  are 
tohl  at  book  auctions,  '  no  gentleman's  library  can  be  con- 
sidered complete,'  are  especially  the  objects  of  this  adora- 
tion. ...  A  good  deal  of  this  mock  worship  is  of 
course  due  to  abject  cowardice.  A  man  who  says  he 
doesn't  like  the  '  Rambler,'  runs,  with  some  folks,  the  risk 
of  being  thought  a  fool;  but  he  is  sure  to  bethought  that, 
for  something  or  another,  under  any  circumstances;  and, 
at  all  events,  why  should  he  not  content  himself,  when 
the  'Rambler'  is  belauded,  with  holding  his  tongue  and 
smiling  acquiescence?  It  must  be  conceded  that  there  are 
a  few  persons  who  really  have  read  the  '  Rambler,'  a  work, 
of  course,  I  am  merely  using  as  a  type  of  its  class.  In 
their  young  days  it  was  used  as  a  school-book,  and  thought 
necessary  as  a  part  of  polite  education;  and  as  they  have 
read  little  or  nothing  since,  it  is  only  reasonable  that  they 
should  stick  to  their  colors.  Indeed,  the  French  satirist's 
boast  that  he  could  predicate  the  views  of  any  man  with 
regard  to  both  worlds,  if  he  were  only  supplied  with  the 
simple  data  of  his  age  and  his  income,  is  quite  true,  in 
general,  with  regard  to  literary  taste.  Given  the  age  of 
the  ordinary  individual— that  is  to  say  of  the  gentleman 
'fond  of  books,  but  who  has  really  no  time  for  reading  ' 
— and  it  is  easy  enough  to  guess  his  literary  idols.  They 
are  the  gods  of  his  youth,  and,  whether  he  has  been 
'suckled  in  a  creed  outworn'  or  not,  he  knows  no  other. 
These  persons,  however,  rarely  give  their  opinion  about 
literary  matters,  except  on  compulsion;  they  are  harmless 
and  truthful.  The  tendency  of  society  in  general,  on 
the  other  hand,  is  not  only  to  praise  the  '  Rambler,'  which 
they  have  not  read,  but  to  express  a  noble  scorn  for  those 
who  have  read  it  and  don't  like  it."  This  writer  goes  on 
to  discuss  this  "  hypocrisy  in  literature"  at  length,  and 
shows  how  many  are  ignorant  of,  or  do  not  really  like,  the 
authors  of  whom  everybody  talks;  and  how  their  social 
career  is  marked  by  all  sorts  of  equivocations  and  false- 
hoods with  reference  to  those  authors.  "  It  is  partly  in 
consequence  of  this,"  he  says,  "  that  works,  not  only  of 
acknowledged  but  genuine  excellence,  such  as  tliose  I  have 
been  careful  to  select,  are,  though  so  universally  praised,  so 
little  read.     The  poor  student  attempts  them,  but  failing 


THE  CULTIVA  TION  OF  TASTE.  57 

— from  many  causes  no  doubt,  but  also  sometimes  from 
the  fact  of  their  not  being  there — to  tind  tliose  unrivaled 
beauties  which  he  has  been  led  to  expect  in  every  sentence, 
he  stops  short,  where  he  would  otherwise  have  gone  on. 
He  says  to  himself  'I  have  been  deceived/  or  *  I  must  be 
a  born  fool;'  whereas  he  is  wrong  in  both  suppositions. 
.  The  habit  of  mere  adhesion  to  received  opinion  in 
any  matter  is  most  mischievous,  for  it  strikes  at  the  root 
of  independence  of  thought;  and  in  literature  it  tends  to 
make  the  public  taste  mechanical."  And  a  taste  that  is 
both  mechanical  and  false  is  surely  not  likely  to  be  bene- 
ficial to  society  at  large  or  to  the  individual  reader.  The 
remedy  proposed  by  the  writer  from  whom  I  have  quoted 
is  this:  ''  It  is  not  every  one,  of  course,  who  has  an  opin- 
ion of  his  own  upon  every  subject,  far  less  on  that  of 
literature;  but  every  one  can  abstain  from  expressing  an 
opinion  that  is  not  his  own." 

And  cei'tainly  I  do  not  know  abetter  starting-point  than 
this,  if  one  is  really  desirous  of  cultivating  his  taste.  Do 
not  pretend  to  like  what  you  do  not  like.  Do  not  pretend 
to  know  what  you  do  not  know.  Do  not  be  content  Avith 
your  taste  as  it  is,  but  try  to  improve  it;  not  expecting 
that  you  will  ever  like  all  that  great  men  have  written. 


POETRY. 


Some  people  read  a  great  deal  of  poetry,  with  constant 
zest  and  unfailing  advantage  ;  others,  though  they  may 
be  "  great  readers"  of  other  classes  of  literature,  find  little 
pleasure  or  profit  in  poetry.  Is  it  a  duty  to  read  jDoetry  ? 
Should  those  who  seem  to  have  no  natural  taste  for  it, 
endeavor  to  cultivate  a  taste  ;  or  should  they  rest  content 
with  the  conclusion  that  some  minds  appreciate  and  profit 
by  poetical  compositions,  while  other  minds  have  no 
capacity  for  their  enjoyment  ? 

It  may  not  be  a  downright  duty  to  like  poetry,  or  to  try 
to  like  it  ;  but  certainly  it  is  a  misfortune  that  so  large 
and  lovely  a  division  of  the  world's  literature  should  be  lost 
to  any  reader.  The  absence  of  a  poetic  taste  is  a  sad 
indication  of  a  lack  of  the  imaginative  faculty  ;  and 
without  imagination  what  is  life  ?  '*'  The  study  and  read- 
ing  of  poetry,"  says   President   Porter,   ''exercises  and 


58  THE  run  ICE  OF  BOOKS. 

cultivates  the  imagination,  antl  in  tliis  way  imparts 
intellectual  power.  It  is  impossible  to  read  the  products 
of  any  poet's  imagination  without  using  our  own.  To 
read  what  he  creates  is  to  recreate  in  our  own  minds  the 
images  and  pictures  which  he  first  conceived  and  then 
expressed  in  language." 

If  a  reader  finds  that  the  ideal  has  little  or  no  place  in 
his  intellectual  life  or  in  l)is  daily  processes  of  thougiitand 
feeling,  then  he  should  consider,  with  all  soberness,  the 
fact  tiiat  a  God-given  power  is  slip[)ing  away  from  him — a 
power  witiiout  which  his  best  faculties  must  become 
atrophied  ;  without  which  he  loses  the  greater  half  of  the 
enjoyment  of  life,  day  by  day  ;  without  which,  in  very 
truth,  he  cannot  see  all  the  glory  of  the  open  door  of  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven.  Children  are  poets;  they  see  fairy- 
land in  a  poor  broken  set  of  toy  crockery  or  in  a  ragged 
company  of  broken-nosed  dolls.  Their  powers  of  imagina- 
tion ought  never  to  be  lost  in  the  humdrum  affairs  of  a 
workaday  world  ;  their  iiabit  of  finding  the  real  in  the 
ideal  is  one  which  cannot  be  laid  aside  without  great 
detriment  to  the  individual  life  and  character.  There 
may,  then,  be  persons  who  "  have  no  capacity  for  poetry," 
and  who  cannot  cultivate  a  taste  for  it ;  but  this  inability, 
if  real,  is  to  be  mourned  as  a  mental  blindness  and  deaf- 
ness, shutting  out  whole  worlds  from  sight  and  hearing. 

There  is,  of  course,  a  great  deal  of  imaginative  literature 
which  is  not  poetry,  in  the  technical  sense  ;  but  if  one  can 
read  Hawthorne  or  Richter  with  pleasure,  he  is  quite  sure 
to  find  no  stumbling-block  in  Schiller's  "Lay  of  the 
Bell"  or  Drake's  "  Culprit  Fay."  It  is  the  poetic  spirit 
that  we  should  recognize  and  take  to  our  hearts,  whatever 
be  the  outward  form  in  which  it  may  be  enshrined. 

What  is  the  poetic  spirit  ?  Many  have  been  the  attempts 
to  define  it ;  but,  after  all,  we  can  only  say,  in  the  words 
Shelley  wrote  in  his  ''Hymn  to  the  Spirit  of  Nature:" 
"All  feel,  yet  see  thee  never,"  Or  again,  is  not  poetry  to 
be  described,  as  nearly  as  we  may  describe  it,  in  two  more 
lines  from  the  same  fine  poem  ? — 

Lamp  of  Earth,  where'er  thou  movest 
Its  dim  shapes  are  clad  with  brightness. 

In  Professor  W.  P.  Atkinson's  excellent  lecture  on  read- 
ing is  a  passage  concerning  poetry,  which  is  both  imagina- 


POETRY.  59 

tive  and  practical.  ''I  have  no  thought,'' says  he,  '*of 
attempting  here  a  definition  of  poetry,  though  I  should 
like  to  come  and  give  you  a  leeture  on  the  art  of  reading 
it.  AYhether  we  call  it,  with  Aristotle,  imitation  ; 
whether  we  say  more  worthily,  with  Bacon,  '  that  it  was 
ever  thought  to  have  some  participation  of  divineness, 
because  it  doth  raise  and  erect  the  mind  by  submitting  the 
shows  of  things  to  the  desires  of  the  mind,  whereas  reason 
doth  buckle  and  bow  the  mind  unto  the  nature  of  things  ;' 
whether,  in  more  modern  times,  we  define  it,  with  Shelley, 
as  *  the  best  and  happiest  thoughts  of  the  best  and 
happiest  minds ;'  or  say,  with  Matthew  Arnold,  that 
'poetry  is  simply  the  most  beautiful,  impressive,  and 
widely  effective  mode  of  saying  things  ''  and,  again,  that 
'  it  is  to  the  poetical  literature  of  an  age  that  we  must  in 
general  look  for  the  most  perfect  and  most  adequate 
interpretation  of  that  age  ;'  or  whether  we  say,  with  the 
greatest  poet  of  the  last  generation,  that  '  poetry  is  the 
breath  and  finer  spirit  of  all  knowledge,  the  impassioned 
expression  which  is  in  the  countenance  of  all  science' — all 
I  am  concerned  to  say  here  is,  that  poetry  is  that  branch 
of  the  literature  of  power  pre-eminently  worthy  of  study, 
and  that  without  study  we  shall  know  but  little  about  it." 

We  need  not  think,  then,  that  the  reading  of  poetry  is  a 
matter  of  whim  or  accident,  to  be  undertaken  without 
thought  or  study.  President  Porter  says  that  ''a  taste  for 
poetry,  especially  that  of  the  highest  order,  is  to  a  great 
extent  the  product  of  special  culture."  The  foundation 
for  this  culture  lies  in  the  individual  mind;  for  its 
development  he  must  seek  his  material  from  the  treasures 
around  him,  and  must  work  out  his  methods  of  utilizing 
that  material  with  the  same  care — or  even  greater — which 
he  applies  to  other  departments  of  intellectual  exercise. 
Let  him,  if  he  finds  his  taste  in  need  of  cultivation,  begin 
with  such  poems  as  he  likes  ;  read  them  more  than  once  ; 
learn  their  teachings  ;  apprehend  their  inner  spirit  and 
purpose.  Whatever  the  beginning,  it  is  sure  to  lead  to 
something  better,  if  the  reader  will  but  resolutely 
determine  to  know  what  the  writer  meant  to  say  ;  to  see 
the  picture  that  he  portrayed  ;  and  to  share  his  enthusiasm 
and  warmth  of  feeling. 

Mr.  G.  J.  Goschen,  a  leading  English  banker  and 
political  economist,  declares  that  the  cultivation   of  the 


60  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

imagination  is  essential  to  the  highest  success  in  politics, 
in  learning,  and  in  the  corntnercial  business  of  life.  No 
one  is  too  dull,  or  too  prosaic,  or  too  much  absorbed  in 
the  routine  of  "■  practical  life"  to  be  absolved  from  the 
care  of  his  imaginative  poAvers  ;  and  no  one  is  likely  to  find 
that  tliis  care  will  not  repay  hitn  even  in  a  practical  sense. 
He  who  thinks  wisely,  he  who  perceives  quickly  that 
which  others  do  not  see  at  all,  is  better  equipped  for  any 
work  than  one  whose  mind  works  slowly  and  feebly,  and 
whose  apprehensions  have  grown  rusty  from  disuse. 

Poetry  is  not  for  the  few,  but  for  the  many,  for  all.  The 
world's  great  poems,  absolutely  without  exception,  have 
been  poems  whose  meaning  has  been  perfectly  clear  and 
whose  language  has  been  simple — poems  which  have  ad- 
dressed themselves  to  the  plain  and  common  sense  of  the 
ages.  Obscurity  and  whimsicality  may  belong  to  the 
Brownings  of  literature — to  the  star-gazing  Transcenden- 
talists  of  1840,  or  to  the  posturing  '' impressionists"  of 
to-day.  But  Homer,  and  Virgil,  and  Dante,  and  Chaucer, 
and  Shakespeare  need  no  mystical  commentary  to  explain 
their  meaning ;  like  Mark  Antony,  they  "  only  speak  right 
on."  If  a  poem  is  obscure,  you  may  know  by  that  mark 
alone  that  it  is  a  second-rate — or  tenth-rate — affair,  and 
that  it  is  not  worth  your  while  to  vex  your  brain  over  it  at 
all.  If  a  poet  has  not  made  himself,  it  is  his  fault  and  not 
yours — if  you  are  a  person  of  average  intellectual  capacity. 
Feel  not  abashed  if  you  do  not  comprehend  the  "orpliic" 
or  the  "  intense  ;"  most  likely  the  author  did  not  com- 
prehend it  himself.  Sunlight,  air,  water — these  are  not 
for  the  few  ;  nor  is  poetry  to  be  cooped  and  confined  any 
more  than  these. 

Princi])al  Shairp  thus  speaks  of  this  inherent  quality  of 
the  best  poetry — a  quality  which  all  men  may  a])prehend 
if  they  will  :  "The  pure  style  is  that  which,  whether  it 
describes  a  scene,  a  character,  or  a  sentiment,  lays  hold 
of  its  inner  meaning,  not  its  surface  ;  the  type  which  the 
thing  embodies,  not  the  accidents  ;  the  core  or  heart  of  it, 
not  the  accessories.  .  .  .  Descriptions  of  this  kind, 
while  they  convey  typical  conceptions,  yet  retain  perfect 
individuality.  They  are  done  by  a  few  strokes,  in  the 
fewest  possible  words  ;  but  each  stroke  tells,  each  word 
goes  home.  Of  this  kind  is  the  poetry  of  the  Psalms  and 
of  the  Hebrew  prophets.     It  is  seen  in  the  brief,  impres- 


POETRY.  61 

sive  way  in  which  Dante  presents  the  heroes  or  heroines  of 
his  nether  world,  as  compared  with  Virgil's  more  elaborate 
pictures.  In  all  of  Wordsworth  that  has  really  impressed 
the  world,  this  will  be  found  to  be  tlie  chief  characteristic. 
It  is  seen  especially  in  his  finest  lyrics  and  his  most  im- 
pressive sonnets.  Take  only  three  poems  that  stand 
together  in  liis  works,  "  Grlen  Almain,"  "  Stepping  West- 
ward," "  The  Solitary  Eeaper."  In  each  you  have  a 
scene  and  its  sentiment  brought  home  with  the  minimum 
of  words,  the  maximum  of  power.  It  is  distinctive  of  tlie 
pure  style  that  it  relies  not  on  side  effects,  but  on  the 
total  impression — that  it  produces  a  unity  in  whicii  all  the 
parts  are  subordinated  to  one  paramount  aim.  The 
imagery  is  appropriate,  never  excessive.  You  are  not  dis- 
tracted by  glaring  single  lines  or  two  splendid  images. 
There  is  one  tone,  and  that  all  pervading — reducing  all 
the  materials,  however  diverse,  into  harmony  with  the  one 
total  result  designed.  This  style  in  its  perfection  is  not 
to  be  attained  by  any  rules  of  art.  The  secret  of  it  lies 
further  in  than  rules  of  art  can  reach,  even  in  this  :  that 
the  writer  sees  his  object,  and  this  only;  feels  the  senti- 
ment of  it,  and  this  only  ;  is  so  absorbed  in  it,  lost  in  it, 
that  he  altogether  forgets  himself  and  his  style,  and  cares 
only  in  fewest,  most  vital  words  to  convey  to  others  the 
vision  his  own  soul  sees.  .  .  .  The  ornate  style  in 
poetry  is  altogether  different  from  this.  Xo  doubt  the 
multitude  of  uneducated  and  half-educated  readers,  which 
every  day  increases,  loves  a  highly  ornamented,  not  to  say 
a  meretricious  style,  both  in  literature  and  in  the  arts  ; 
and  if  these  demand  it,  writers  and  artists  will  be  found 
to  furnish  it.  There  remains,  therefore,  to  tlie  most 
educated  the  task  of  counterworking  this  evil.  With  them 
it  lies  to  elevate  the  thought  and  to  purify  the  taste  of  less 
cultivated  readers,  and  to  remedy  one  of  the  evils  incident 
to  democracy.  To  high  thinking  and  noble  living  the 
pure  style  is  natural.  But  these  things  are  severe,  require 
moral  bracing,  minds  not  luxurious  but  which  can  endure 
hardness.  Softness,  self-pleasing,  and  moral  limpness  find 
their  congenial  element  in  excess  of  highly-colored  orna- 
mentation. On  the  whole,  wlien  once  a  man  is  master  of 
himself  and  of  his  materials,  the  best  rule  that  can  be 
given  him  is  to  forget  style  altogether,  and  to  think  only 
of  the  reality  to  be  expressed.     The   more   the   mind   is 


G3  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

intent  on  the  reality,  the  simpler,  truer,  more  telling  the 
style  will  be.  The  advice  which  the  great  preacher  gives 
for  conduct  holds  not  less  for  all  kinds  of  writing  :  "  Aim 
at  things,  and  your  words  will  be  right  without  aiming. 
Guard  against  love  of  display,  love  of  singularity,  love  of 
seeming  original.  Aim  at  meaning  what  you  say,  and  say- 
ing what  you  mean.''  When  a  man  who  is  full  of  his  sub- 
ject and  has  matured  his  powers  of  expression  sets  himself 
to  speak  thus  simply  and  sincerely,  whatever  there  is  in 
him  of  strength  or  sweetness,  of  dignity  or  grace,  of  humor 
or  pathos,  will  find  its  way  out  naturally  into  his  language. 
That  language  will  be  true  to  his  thought,  true  to  the  man 
himself." 

How  different  is  such  poetical  language  from  the  jjoetry 
of  the  obscure,  or  the  mock-sentimental,  or  the  positively 
base  !  What  Tlie  Saturday  Revieiu  has  said  of  Byron  is 
true  of  many  another  poet :  "Even  Byron's  best  passages 
will  not  stand  critical  examination.  They  excite  rather 
than  transport,  and  when  the  reader  examines  seriously 
what  he  has  felt,  tlie  impression  of  a  vague  contagious  ex- 
citement is  all  that  he  retains.  In  reading  Byron,  the 
reader  dimly  feels  that  he  is  in  the  presence  of  a  very- 
eloquent  person  who  is,  or  would  like  to  be  thought,  jn  a 
state  of  great  excitement  about  something,  and  that  it  is 
his  duty  to  become  excited  too. 

True  poetry  has  a  far  nobler  mission  than  to  puzzle,  or 
to  amuse,  or  to  excite;  it  is  tiie  voice  of  all  that  is  best  in 
humanity,  speaking  from  nuin  to  man.  Not  all  of  us  can 
thus  speak,  but  we  can  all  hear,  and  incorporate  what  we 
hear  in  our  best  and  truest  life,  day  by  day. 


THE  ART  OF  SKIPPING. 

It  is  a  fortunate  thing  that  one  of  the  most  hackneyed 
quotations  concerning  books  and  reading  should  also  be 
one  of  the  most  sensible  ones:  Lord  Bacon's  saying  that 
"  Some  books  are  to  be  tasted,  others  to  be  swallowed,  and 
some  few  to  be  chewed  and  digested;  that  is,  some  books 
are  to  be  read  only  in  parts;  others  to  be  read,  but  not 
curiously;  and  some  few  to  be  read  \vholly,  and  with  dili- 
gence and  attention. 

The  following  of  this  piece  of  advice  has  done  a  great 


THE  ART  OF  SKIPPING.  63 

deal  of  good;  and  no  harm  is  likely  to  come  from  its  wise 
observance.  Some  people  profess  to  believe  that  a  book 
that  is  worth  reading  at  all  is  worth  reading  straight 
through — a  piece  of  foolishness  that  would  be  paralleled  by 
an  insistance  upon  eating  a  table-full  every  time  one  sits 
down  to  a  meal,  A  person  who  makes  up  his  mind  to  read 
all  of  a  book  or  none,  must  be  fully  convinced  of  the 
solemn  truth  of  the  saying  that  "  a  book's  a  book,  although 
tliere's  nothing  in't."  Against  such  lack  of  wisdom  the 
sturdy  common  sense  of  Lord  Bacon's  remark  may  be  put. 
The  reader  need  but  rest  assured  of  its  unquestionable 
truth,  and  spend  his  time  in  trying  to  discover  what  books 
are  to  be  tasted,  what  swallowed,  and  what  digested; 
rather  than  vex  his  soul  in  questioning  whether  the  general 
advice  is  sound  or  not. 

A  book  that  is  worth  reading  all  through  is  pretty  sure 
to  make  its  worth  known.  There  is  something  in  the  lit- 
erary conscience  which  tells  a  reader  whether  he  is  wasting 
his  time  or  not.  An  hour  or  a  minute  may  be  sufficient 
opportunity  for  forming  a  decision  concerning  the  worth 
or  worthlessness  of  the  book.  If  it  is  utterly  bad  and  val- 
ueless, then  skip  the  whole  of  it,  as  soon  as  you  have  made 
the  discovery.  If  a  part  is  good  and  a  part  bad,  accept 
the  one  and  reject  the  other.  If  you  are  in  doubt,  take 
warning  at  the  first  intimation  that  you  are  misspending 
your  opportunity  and  frittering  away  your  time  over  an 
unprofitable  book.  Reading  that  is  of  questionable  value 
is  not  hard  to  find  out;  it  bears  its  notes  and  marks  in 
unmistakable  plainness,  and  it  puts  forth,  all  unwittingly, 
danger  signals  of  which  the  reader  should  take  heed. 

The  art  of  skipping  is,  in  a  word,  the  art  of  noting  and 
shunning  that  which  is  bad,  or  frivolous,  or  misleading,  or 
unsuitable  for  one's  individual  needs.  If  you  are  con- 
vinced that  the  book  or  the  chapter  is  bad,  you  cannot 
drop  it  too  quickly.  If  it  is  simply  idle  and  foolish, 
put  it  away  on  that  account — unless  you  are  properly 
seeking  amusement  from  idleness  and  frivolity.  If  it  is 
deceitful  and  disingenuous,  your  task  is  not  so  easy,  but  your 
conscience  will  give  you  warning,  and  the  sharp  examina- 
tion which  should  follow  will  tell  you  that  you  are  in  poor 
literary  company. 

But  there  are  a  great  many  books  which  are  good  in 
themselves,  and  yet  are  not  good  at  all  times  or  for  all  readers. 


64  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

Xo  book,  indeed,  is  of  iniiversal  value  and  appropriateness. 
As  has  been  said  in  previous  chapters  of  this  series,  tlie 
individual  must  always  dare  to  remember  that  he  has  his 
own  legitimate  tastes  and  wants,  and  that  it  is  not  only 
proper  to  follow  them,  but  highly  improper  to  permit  them 
to  be  overruled  by  the  tastes  and  wants  of  others.  It  is 
right  for  one  to  neglect  entirely,  or  to  skip  through,  pages 
which  another  should  study  again  and  again.  Let  each 
reader  ask  himself:  Why  am  I  reading  this?  What  service 
will  it  be  to  me?  Am  I  neglecting  something  else  that 
would  be  more  beneficial?  Ilere,  as  in  every  other  ques- 
tion involved  in  the  choice  of  books,  the  golden  key  to 
knowledge,  a  key  that  will  only  fit  its  own  proper  doors,  is 
puiyose. 

Thus  the  reader  is  the  pupil,  and  the  companion,  and 
the  fellow  worker  of  the  author,  not  his  slave.  "  It  is  a 
wise  book  that  is  good  from  title-page  to  the  end,"  says 
A.  Bronson  Alcott.  Such  a  book  should  be  read  through; 
but  the  books  that  are  wise  in  spots  should  be  read  in  spots. 
Again,  Mr.  Alcott  says:  *'I  value  books  for  their  sugges- 
tiveness  even  more  than  for  the  information  they  may  con- 
tain; volumes  that  may  be  taken  in  hand  and  laid  aside, 
read  at  odd  moments,  containing  sentences  tliat  take  pos- 
session of  my  thought  and  prompt  to  the  following  them 
into  their  wider  relations  with  life  and  things."  This 
suggestivcness  of  books  read  at  odd  moments  is  one  of  the 
great  advantages  of  judicious  skipping.  From  this  habit 
comes,  often,  a  riper  and  wholesomer  harvest  than  would 
spring  from  the  most  painstaking  devotion  to  regulated  and 
routine  reading  and  study.  One  page,  one  sentence,  thus 
planted  in  the  fertile  soil  of  a  receptive  mind,  is  bettcj  than 
a  whole  library  read  from  a  mere  sense  of  duty,  and  with- 
out reference  to  one's  own  true  welfare,  as  indicted  by  his 
nature  and  his  needs. 

Xo  one  thus  wisely  choosing  what  he  may  best  read 
need  be  in  any  fear  that  he  is  a  superlicial  reader.  "  Did 
you  ever  happen  to  see," — asks  a  writer  whose  name  I  have 
unfortunately  lost — "  did  you  ever  happen  to  see,  in 
shrewd,  old,  hard-headed  Bishop  Whately's  annotations  on 
Lord  Bacon's  essays,  a  good  passage  about  what  is  and 
what  is  not  superficiality  ?  It  is  in  the  sentence  in 
Bacon's  Essay  on  Studies,  '  Crafty  men  contemn  studies.' 
*  This  contempt,'  says  the  bishop,  '  whether  of  crafty  men 


THE  ART  OF  SKIPPING.  65 

or  narrow-minded  men,  finds  its  expression  in  the  word 
*  smattering,'  and  the  couplet  is  become  almost  a  proverb  : 

A  little  learning  is  a  dangerous  thing: 
Drink  deep,  or  taste  not  the  Pierian  spring. 

But  the  poet's  remedies  for  the  dangers  of  a  little  learning 
are  both  of  tliem  impossible.  No  one  can  drink  deep 
enough  to  be  in  trutli  anything  more  than  superficial;  and 
every  human  being  that  is  not  a  downright  idiot  must 
taste.  And  the  bishop,  in  liis  downright  way,  goes  on  to 
give  practical  illustrations  of  the  usefulness  of  a  little 
knowledge,  and  proceeds:  '  What  then,  is  the  smattering, 
the  imperfect  and  superficial  knowledge  that  does 
deserve  contempt?  A  slight  and  superficial  knowledge 
is  justly  condemned  when  it  is  put  in  the  place  of  more 
full  and  exact  knowledge.  Such  an  acquaintance  with 
chemistry  and  anatomy,  for  instance,  as  would  be  credit- 
able and  not  useless  to  a  lawyer,  would  be  contemptible  for 
a  physician;  and  such  an  acquaintance  with  law  as  would 
be  desirable  for  him  would  be  a  most  discreditable  smat 
tering  for  a  lawyer.'  " 

Mr,  Hamerton  has  some  wise  words  on  this  subject:  ''If 
becomes  a  necessary  part,"  says  he,  "  of  the  art  of  Intel 
lectual  living,  so  to  order  our  work  as  to  shield  ourselvef 
if  possible,  at  least  during  a  certain  portion  of  our  time, 
from  the  evil  consequences  of  hurry.     The  whole  secret 

lies   in    a   single    word — 'Selection The  art   is  to 

select  the  reading  which  will  be  most  useful  to  our  pur- 
pose, and,  in  writing,  to  select  the  words  which  will  ex- 
press our  meaning  with  the  greatest  clearness  in  a  little 
space.  The  art  of  reading  is  to  skip  judiciously.  Whole 
libraries  may  be  skipped  in  these  days,  when  we  have  the 
results  of  them  in  our  modern  culture  without  going  over 
the  ground  again.  And  even  of  the  books  we  decide  to 
read,  there  are  almost  always  large  portions  which  do  not 
concern  us,  and  which  we  are  sure  to  forget  the  day  after 
we  have  read  them.  The  art  is  to  skip  all  that  does  not 
concern  us,  while  missing  nothing  that  we  really  need. 
No  external  guidance  can  teach  us  this;  for  nobody  but 
ourselves  can  guess  what  the  needs  of  our  intellect  may 
be.  But  let  us  select  with  decisive  firmness,  independently 
of  other  people's  advice,  independently  of  the  authority  of 
custom." 


66  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

Of  course  it  follows  that,  to  some  extent,  we  can  let 
others  do  the  work  of  selection  for  us,  subject  to  correction 
wherever  necessary.  "  In  comparing  tiie  number  of  good 
books  with  tlie  shortness  of  life,  niauy  might  well  be  read 
by  proxy,  if  we  had  good  proxies,"  says  Emerson.  Sensible 
literary  guides  must  be  followed  to  a  large  extent,  whether" 
in  their  lecommendatiou  of  one  book  as  against  another, 
or  of  certain  poems  or  prose  extracts  in  comparison  with 
others.  Books  of  selection,  it  is  true,  sometimes  omit 
things  we  would  have  greatly  liked  ;  but  who  will  pretend 
to  say  that  he  always  finds  everything  that  would  have 
pleased  or  profited  him,  even  when  he  makes  his  own 
choice  ?  As  no  worker  in  any  field  of  labor  can,  in  this 
social  world,  dispense  with  the  help  of  others,  so  it  is 
especially  necessary  for  readers  to  follow  the  guidance  of 
pioneers  and  wise  ciitics ;  and  to  make  use  of  the 
selections  these  critics  have  made,  as  well  as  their  indica- 
tion of  whole  books.  And  sometimes,  as  Emerson's 
remark  shows  us,  we  may  not  only  delegate  to  others  the 
work  of  choice  and  selection,  but  also  that  of  reading 
itself. 


THE  USE  OF  TRANSLATIONS. 

A  FEW  words  concerning  the  use  of  translations  of  the 
masterpieces  of  other  languages  may  be  properly  given 
here,  because  it  is  a  subject  concerning  which  most  guides 
to  reading  have  nothing  whatever  to  say;  and  to  which  the 
majority  of  intelligent  readers,  even,  have  given  very  little 
thought.  Great  as  is  the  neglect  of  good  reading  in  one's 
own  language,  still  greater  is  the  lack  of  attention  to 
Ensrlish  translations  of  the  noble  books  of  other  literatures 
than  our  own. 

An  intelligent  comprehension  of  one's  needs  in  the 
choice  of  books  should  certainly  include  due  attention  to 
the  literature  of  France,  or  Germany,  or  Italy,  or  Greece, 
or  Spain;  or,  in  other  words,  such  a  comprehension  should 
never  forget  that  good  literature  is  not  an  insular  affair, 
bounded  by  the  limits  of  one  country,  or  by  the  letters  of 
one  language.  Of  course  it  is  both  natural  and  proper 
that  the  greater  part  of  our  reading  should  be  of  books  ol 


I'HE  ART  OF  SKIPPING.  67 

Americau  or  English  authorship;  but  our  culture  and 
training  will  be  greatly  impoverished  if,  because  of  a 
partial  or  complete  unfaniiliarity  with  the  languages  in 
which  they  wrote,  we  take  no  account  of  Homer,  or  Virgil, 
or  Dante,  or  Goethe. 

Speaking  in  general  terras,  the  entire  body  of  the  best 
literature  of  other  lands  is  accessible  in  adequate  English 
translations.  And  of  the  use  Avhich  may  be  made  of  them, 
let  Emerson  speak,  in  one  of  the  most  familiar  passages  of 
his  essay  on  books:  "'The  respectable  and  sometimes  ex- 
cellent translations  of  Bohn's  Library  have  done  for  liter- 
ature what  railroads  have  done  for  internal  intercourse. 
I  do  not  hestitate  to  read  all  the  books  I  have  named,  and 
all  good  books,  in  translations.  What  is  really  best  in  any 
book  is  translatable — any  real  insight  or  broad  human 
sentiment.  Nay,  I  observe  that,  in  our  Bible,  and  other 
books  of  lofty  moral  tone,  it  seems  easy  and  inevitable  to  ren- 
der the  rhythm  and  music  of  the  original  into  phrases  of 
equal  melody.  The  Italians  have  a  iling  at  translators — i 
traditori  traduttori ;  but  I  thank  them.  I  rarely  read  any 
Greek,  Latin,  German,  Italian,  sometimes  not  a  French 
book,  in  the  original,  which  I  can  procure  in  a  good  ver- 
sion. I  like  to  be  beholden  to  the  great  metropolitan 
English  speech,  tlie  sea  which  receives  tributaries  from 
every  region  under  heaven.  I  should  as  soon  think  of 
swimming  across  Charles  Eiver  when  I  wish  to  go  to 
Boston,  as  of  reading  all  my  books  in  originals,  when  I 
have  them  rendered  for  me  in  my  mother-tongue."  If 
such  a  man  as  Emerson  thus  recognizes  the  utility  of 
translations,  surely  the  average  reader  cannot  alford  to 
ignore  them;  whether  from  his  feeling  that  he  must  read 
books  in  the  original  or  not  at  all,  or  because  he  carelessly 
permits  himself  to  forget  that  vast  land  which  lies  beyond 
the  bounds  of  his  immediate  literary  horizon. 

Mr.  Emerson  is  one  of  the  scholarly  men  of  his  age;  an 
author  who  has,  in  an  especial  degree,  made  the  wisdom 
of  all  times  pay  tribute  to  him.  If  any  contemporary  writer 
could  properly  be  "above"  reading  translations,  he  might 
be  supposed  to  be  that  one;  and  yet  he  takes  advanced 
ground  in  the  matter,  and  speaks  ten  times  -^s  boldly  as  a 
mere  village  pedant  would  dare  to  speak.  Let  us  also 
hear  what  Philip  Gilbert  Ilamerton  has  to  say  on  the 
same  subject — bearing  in  mind  that  Mr.  Hamerton's  tea- 


G8  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOORS. 

timouy  is  of  especiai  value,  because  lie  might  well  be 
thoagiit  likely  to  take  exactly  the  contrary  view,  iuas- 
luuch  as  he  has  lived  in  France  and  England,  married  a 
French  wife,  and  uses  the  French  and  English  languages 
Avith  absolute  indifference.  He  says:  "Mature  life  brings 
so  many  professional  or  social  duties  that  it  leaves  scant 
time  for  culture,  and  those  Avho  care  for  culture  most 
earnestly  and  sincerely,  are  the  very  persons  who  will 
economize  time  to  the  utmost.  Now,  to  read  a  language 
that  has  been  very  imperfectly  mastered  is  felt  to  be  a  bad 
economy  of  time.  Suppose  the  case  of  a  man  occupied  in 
business  who  has  studied  Greek  rather  assiduously  in 
youtii  and  yet  not  enough  to  read  Plato  with  facility. 
He  can  read  the  original,  but  ho  reads  it  so  slowly  that  it 
would  cost  him  more  hours  than  he  can  spare  and  this  is 
why  he  has  recourse  to  a  translation.  In  this  case  there 
is  no  indifference  to  Greek  culture;  on  the  contrary,  the 
reader  desires  to  assimilate  what  he  can  of  it,  but  the  very 
earnestness  of  his  wish  to  have  free  access  to  ancient 
thought  makes  him  prefer  it  in  modern  language." 

Mr.  Hamerton  also  points  out  very  effectively  that  even 
an  intelligent  and  apparently  deep  study  of  another  lan- 
guage may  not  bring  witii  it  an  insight  into  its  spirit,  or 
a  true  knowledge  of  its  richest  treasures:  "Suppose  a 
society  of  Frenchmen,  in  some  secluded  little  French  vil- 
lage where  no  Englishman  ever  penetrates,  and  that  these 
Frenchmen  learn  English  from  dictionaries,  and  set  them- 
selves to  speak  Euglisii  with  each  other,  without  anybody 
to  teach  them  the  colloquial  language  or  its  pronuncia- 
tion, without  ever  once  hearing  the  sound  of  it  from 
English  lips,  what  sort  of  English  would  they  create 
among  themselves?  This  is  a  question  that  I  happen  to 
be  able  to-  answer  very  accurately,  because  I  have  known 
two  Frenchmen  who  studied  English  literature  just  as  the 
Frenchmen  of  the  sixteenth  century  studied  the  literature 
of  ancient  Rome.  One  of  them,  especially,  had  attained 
what  would  certainly  in  the  case  of  a  dead  language  bo 
considered  a  very  high  degree  of  scholarship  indeed. 
Most  of  our  great  authors  were  known  to  him,  even  down 
to  the  close  critical  comparison  of  different  readings. 
Aided  by  tlie  most  powerful  memory  I  over  knew  he  had 
amassed  such  stores  that  the  acquisitions,  even  of  culti- 
vated Englishmen,   would  in  many  cases  have  appeared 


THE  ART  OF  SKIPPING.  69 

inconsiderable  beside  them.  But  he  could  not  write  or 
speak  English  iu  a  manner  tolerable  to  an  Englishman; 
and  although  he  knew  nearly  all  the  words  in  the  lan- 
guage, it  was  dictionary  knowledge,  and  so  different  from 
an  Euglisiiman's  apprehension  of  the  same  words  that  it 
was  only  a  sort  of  pseudo-English  that  he  knew,  and  not 
our  living  tongue.  His  appreciation  of  our  authors,  espe- 
cially our  poets,  differed  so  widely  from  English  criticism 
and  feeling  that  it  was  evident  that  he  did  not  under- 
stand them  as  we  understand  them.  Two  things  espe- 
cially proved  this:  he  frequently  mistook  declamatory 
versification  for  poetry  of  an  elevated  order;  while  on  the 
other  hand,  his  ear  failed  to  perceive  the  music  of  the 
musical  poets,  as  Byron  and  Tennyson.  How  could  he 
hear  their  music,  he  to  whom  our  English  sounds  were  all 
unknown?  Here,  for  example,  is  the  way  he  r-ead  'Clari- 
bel:' 

At  ev  ze  bittle  bommess 

Azvart  ze  zeeket  Ion 
At  none  ze  veeld  be  ommess 

Aboot  ze  most  edston 
At  meedneeg  ze  mon  commess 

An  lokez  dovn  alon 
Ere  songg  ze  lintveet  svelless 
Ze  clirvoiced  mavi  dvelless 
'  Ze  tiedgling  srost  lispess 

Ze  slombroos  vav  oolvelless 

Ze  babblang  ronnel  creespess 
Ze  ollov  grot  replee-ess 
Vera  Claribel  lovlee-ess." 

Plainly,  then,  "liberally  educated"  people,  as  such,  have 
no  right  to  affect  superiority  over  such  persons  as  venture 
to  assert  that  English  translations  of  foreign  works  are 
not  only  permissible  reading,  but  that  they  sometimes 
convey  a  far  better  idea  of  foreign  literature  than  may  be 
obtained  from  any  save  the  most  complete  and  successful 
study  of  other  tongues.  The  average  college  graduate  is 
almost  certain  to  be  a  mere  baby  iu  his  knowledge  of  the 
ancient  and  modern  Uterahire  of  Europe,  though  he  has 
professed  to  study  Latin  six  or  seven  years,  and  Greek 
four  or  five  years,  and  French  and  German  two  or  three 
terms.  Of  this  study,  fully  nine-tenths  has  been  of  gram- 
matical forms,  and  etymological  niceties,  and  syntactical 
constructions;  and  his  translating  has  been  done  by  piece- 


70  THE  Clio T( 'E  OF  BOO KS. 

meal,  in  sueli  a  way  as  to  destroy  ])retty  effectually  all 
idea  of  the  largeness  and  noble  quality  of  the  text  in  hand 
— and  still  more  of  the  literature  of  wliich  that  text  is  a 
part.  Etymology  is  not  literature;  syntax  is  not  litera- 
ture; the  conjugation  of  a  verb  is  not  literature.  They 
may  or  may  not  be  tiie  gateways  of  an  adequate  knowledge 
of  literature;  more  often  they  are  not,  in  our  usual  scheme 
of  college  education.  Whatever  advantages  may  be  de- 
rived from  the  grammatical  study  of  a  language — and  they 
are  great,  perhaps  essential — the  student  should  not  imag- 
ine that  grammatical  study,  unsupplemeuted  by  something 
more,  is  literary  study.  I  am  not  decrying  grammar,  I 
am  only  saying  that  philology  is  one  thing,  and  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  spirit  and  life  of  a  foreign  literature  is  quite 
another  thing.  Tiiere  are  old  and  eminent  colleges  at 
the  north  which  do  far  less  toward  leading  their  students 
toward  the  literatures  of  their  own  and  other  languages 
than  is  done  by  more  than  one  small  and  feeble  institution 
at  the  west  or  south.  So  far  as  literary  culture  is  con- 
cerned, then,  these  venerable  and  illustrious  colleges  are 
failures,  and  these  new  and  feebly  equipped  "universities" 
of  newer  communities  are  successes.  An  institution  of 
learning  which  fetters  its  classes  in  chains  whose  links  are 
mere  grammatical  niceties,  is  not  to  be  accounted  a  liter- 
ary institution  at  all,  in  comparison  with  one  which  directs 
its  students  to  the  fair  fields  of  belles-lettres,  and  strives 
to  imbue  them  with  the  idea  that  the  spirit  and  life  of 
Homer  is  something  beyond  and  above  the  anatomy  of  the 
Greek  verb.  A  college  of  the  former  kind  may,  indeed, 
graduate  scholars,  but  an  institution  of  the  latter  kind 
may  send  forth  in  a  single  day,  as  in  the  Bowdoin  class  of 
18'i5,  a  Longfellow  and  a  Hawthorne — the  foremost  poet 
and  the  foremost  prose  Avriter  of  a  country. 

Every  reader,  whether  college  bred  or  not,  whether  he 
can  read  his  Bible  in  half  a  dozen  languages  or  in  English 
alone,  should  therefore  remember  that  it  is  his  boundeu 
duty  to  know  somewhat  of  the  world's  literature.  If  he 
can  know  it  at  first  hand,  in  the  original  tongue,  so  much 
the  better;  but,  if,  as  must  usually  happen,  he  must  look 
to  English  translations,  let  him  not  forget  that  a  Keats, 
who  knew  not  a  word  of  Greek,  got  nearer  the  heart  of 
Greek  literature  than  a  hinidrcd  Porsons  could  ever  do. 
Better  is  a  single   book  of   l^yrant's   Homer — so  far  as 

r 


now  TO  RE  AT)  PERIODICALS.  71 

Greek   letters  are   concerned — than    five    years  of   mere 
verbal  grubbing  over  the  grammar  and  dictionary. 


HOW   TO   READ   PERIODICALS. 

It  is  wholly  nnadvisable  to  attempt  to  regulate  one's 
plans  of  reading  with  the  intention  of  leaving  out  news- 
Y^pers  and  other  periodicals,  as  "waste  of  time."  There 
is  no  doubt  that  the  average  book  is  far  more  profitable 
reading  than  the  average  copy  of  a  newspaper;  but  it  by 
no  means  follows  that  the  best  book  is  at  all  times  a  better 
thing  to  read  than  the  best  newspaper.  In  this  age  of 
many  periodicals,  a  very  large  share  of  the  best  literature 
first  appears  in  them;  and,  aside  from  literature  proper, 
one's  scheme  of  reading  is  very  defective  if  it  takes  no 
account  of  the  news  of  the  day.  A  reader  has  no  right  to 
be  well  acquainted  with  ancient  history,  or  with  the  treas- 
ures of  poetry  or  romance,  if  such  acquaintance  has  been 
purchased  at  the  price  of  entire  ignorance  of  the  great 
events  and  the  leading  principles  of  contemporary  life. 

In  Mr.  Philip  Gilbert  Hamerton's  "Intellectual  Life" 
— a  book  frdm  which  I  have  already  quoted  so  many  times 
as  to  show  my  high  appreciation  of  it  as  a  helper  to  sound 
habits  of  mental  regimen — is  a  chapter  addressed  "to  a 
friend  (highly  cultivated)  who  congratulated  himself  on 
having  entirely  abandoned  the  habit  of  reading  news- 
papers." Mr.  Hamerton  admits  that  this  friend  will 
have  a  definite  gain  to  show  for  whatever  may  be  his  loss; 
and  that  some  five  hundred  hours  a  year  will  be  saved  to 
him  as  a  time-income  which  may  be  applied  to  whatever 
purpose  he  may  select.  "In  those  five  hundred  hours," 
says  he  to  his  friend,  "which  are  now  your  own  you  may 
acquire  a  science,  or  obttiin  a  more  perfect  command  over 
one  of  the  languages  which  you  have  studied.  Some  de- 
partment of  your  intellectual  labors  which  has  hitherto 
been  unsatisfactory  to  you,  because  it  was  too  imperfectly 
cultivated,  may  henceforth  be  as  orderly  and  as  fruitful  aa 
a  well-kept  garden.  Yon  may  become  thoroughly  conver- 
sant with  the  works  of  more  than  one  great  author  whom 
yon  have  neglected,  not  from  lack  of  interest,  but  from 
want  of  time."     But  against  these  gains  must  be  set  the 


73  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

loss  of  political  and  social  intelligence;  of  the  ability  to 
deal  with  the  practical  questions  of  the  life  in  which  one 
lives;  and  of  a  large  part  of  that  community  of  knowledge 
which  is  so  essential  to  the  right  development  of  a  mind 
and  of  a  character.  In  a  word,  total  abstinence  from  the 
reading  of  periodicals  must  make  a  person  to  some  extent 
both  ignorant  and  selfish.  "He  who  has  not  learned  to 
read  his  daily  newspaper,"  says  AV.  P.  Atkinson,  "will 
hardly  read  Gibbon  and  Grote  to  any  purpose;  he  who 
cannot  see  history  in  the  streets  of  Boston  will  trouble 
himself  to  no  purpose  with  books  about  Eome  or  Pompeii." 
President  Porter  avers  that  "it  must  be  acknowledged 
that  periodicals  are  in  many  respects  a  great  intellectual 
convenience.  They  abbreviate  labor  and  place  the  results 
of  the  research  of  a  few  at  the  service  and  disposal  of  the 
many.  .  .  .  Oftentimes  au  article  is  better  than  a 
book."  The  same  thought  is  thus  worded  by  F.  B.  Per- 
kins: "Read  periodicals;  not  idly  and  wastefully,  but  so 
as  to  keep  np  with  the  truth  of  the  present  as  well  aa  to 
learn  the  truth  of  the  past.  More  and  more,  wise  and 
good  thoughts  are  published  in  these  temporary  forms. 
.  .  .  The  important  thing  is  to  avoid  being  limited  to 
one  journal;  to  see  as  many  as  possible,  and  to  learn  to 
choose  what  is  valuable  and  to  skip  the  rest." 

Admitting  thus  the  utility  of  the  reading  of  periodicals, 
and  even  insisting  upon  the  necessity  and  duty  of 
reading  them,  it  must  nevertheless  be  said  in  the  plain- 
est manner  that  an  alarming  amount  of  time  is  wasted 
over  them,  or  worse  than  wasted.  When  we  have  deter- 
mined that  newspapers  and  magazines  ought  to  be  read, 
let  US  by  no  means  flutter  ourselves  that  all  our  reading  of 
them  is  commendable  or  justifiable.  I  am  quite  safe  in 
saying  that  the  individual  Avho  happens  to  be  reading 
these  lines  wastes  more  than  half  the  time  that  he  devotes 
to  periodicals;  and  that  he  wastes  it  because  he  does  not 
regulate  that  time  as  he  ought.  "To  learn  to  choose 
what  is  valuable  and  to  skip  the  rest"  is  a  good  rule  for 
reading  periodicals;  and  it  is  a  rule  whose  observance  will 
reduce,  by  fully  one-half,  the  time  devoted  to  them,  and 
will  save  time  and  strength  for  better  intellectual  employ- 
ments— to  say  nothing  of  the  very  important  fact  that  dis- 
cipline in  this  line  will  prevent  the  reader  from  falling 
into  that  demoralizing  and  altogether  disgraceful  inability 


now  TO  READ  PERIODICALS.  73 

to  hold  the  mind  upon  any  continnons  subject  of  thought 
or  study,  which  is  pretty  sure  to  follow  in  the  train  of 
undue  or  thoughtless  reading  of  periodicals.  And  when, 
as  too  often  happens,  a  man  eouies  to  read  nothing  save 
his  morning  paper  at  breakfast  or  on  the  train,  and  liis 
evening  paper  after  his  day's  work  is  over,  that  man's 
brain,  so  far  as  reading  is  concerned,  is  only  half  alive. 
It  cannot  carry  on  a  long  train  of  thought  or  study;  it 
notes  superficial  things  rather  than  inner  principles;  it 
seeks  to  be  amused  or  stimulated,  rather  than  to  be 
instructed. 

How,  then,  shall  we  set  to  work  to  put  in  practice  that 
important  truth  which  President  Porter  states  thus:  "Ono 
should  use  the  newspaper  as  a  servant  and  not  as  a  master?" 

In  the  first  place,  there  are  very  many  periodicals  that 
are  not  worth  reading  at  all — "story-papers"  in  particular, 
that  neither  instruct  nor  profitably  amuse.  Then,  there 
are  among  the  newspapers  of  the  day  a  large  number 
which  look  at  men  and  things  from  the  standpoint  of  the 
superficial  cynic  or  the  "man  of  the  world."  When  a 
paper  lacks  sincerity  and  purpose  in  what  it  says,  and 
habitually  sneers  and  jests,  that  paper  is  a  good  one  to  let 
alone.  To  this  class  belong  too  many  of  our  daily  news- 
papers, in  which  a  real  apprehension  of  the  seriousness  of 
life,  and  of  its  nobility  and  beauty,  seems  utterly  lacking. 
The  habitual  reading  of  such  papers  is  enough  to  make 
one  a  joker  without  wit,  a  critic  without  knowledge,  a 
loafer  rather  than  a  worker,  a  grimacing,  monkey-like 
looker-on  rather  than  a  soldier  in  the  battle  of  life. 
These  are  strong  words;  but  if  the  reading  of  certain 
papers  I  could  name,  and  which  my  readers  could  name, 
does  not  have  this  effect,  it  is  due  to  the  reader  rather 
than  to  the  newspaper.  In  the  reading  of  papers  which 
are  worthy  of  being  read,  we  should  bring  every  article  or 
item,  so  far  as  may  be,  before  the  tribunal  of  our  intellec- 
tual conscience,  and  demand  of  it  what  is  its  purpose,  and 
what  its  utility  to  ourselves.  If  a  thing  is  useless  to  us, 
then  we  may  advantageously  let  it  alone.  A  paper  or  a 
magazine  is  not  all  for  everybody ;  some  things  in  it  are 
for  you,  some  for  me,  some  for  others.  We  can  readily 
tell  what  belongs  to  us  and  what  to  somebody  else.  Again 
in  the  things  which  we  may  properly  read,  we  should  bear 
it  in  mind  not  to  exceed  the  proper  proportion  of  time  to 


74  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

be  devoted  to  a  particular  snbjoofc.  It  is  often  enough  to 
know  that  an  event  has  taken  place,  -without  reading  all 
the  particulars.  Newspapers  are  pretty  sure  to  violate 
the  true  perspective  of  events;  and  their  violation  of  per- 
spective we  must  correct  for  ourselves.  One  very  valuable 
help  toward  reducing  the  time  we  spend  over  newspapers 
is  to  keep  in  check  the  attention  we  are  all  too  ready  to 
give  to  speculations  as  to  what  may  happen  if  certain  con- 
tingencies arise  in  the  future.  "A  large  proportion  of 
newspaper  writing,"  says  Hamerton,  "is  occupied  with 
speculations  on  what  is  likely  to  happen  in  the  course  of  a 
few  months;  therefore,  by  waiting  until  the  time  is  past 
we  know  the  event  without  having  wasted  time  in  specu- 
lations which  could  not  affect  it."  We  should  put  our- 
selves in  the  position  of  one  who  bears  in  mind  the  "long 
result  of  time,"  as  well  as  the  particular  duties  and  expe- 
riences of  the  day.  The  cultivation  of  this  principle  will 
also  do  much  to  remove  the  dangerous  influence  of  an 
undue  devotion  to  the  ephemeral  excitements  and  bitter- 
nesses of  partisan  politics,  in  which  newspapers  of  course 
play  an  active  part.  Hamerton  even  goes  so  far  as  to 
advise  the  avoidance  of  all  literature  that  has  a  contro^ 
versial  tone.  This  is  urging  more  than  is  practicable  oi 
advisable;  but  we  can  at  least  read  newspapers  in  such  a 
manner  that  we  need  not  be  ashamed  of  ourselves  after 
election-day. 

Some  sound  hints  on  newspaper  reading,  with  especial 
reference  to  fixing  its  place  in  our  intellectual  employ- 
ment of  time,  and  to  its  regulation  by  intelligent  purpose, 
have  lately  been  offered  by  Mr.  Horace  E.  Scudder.  "In 
the  daily  life  of  a  vast  number  of  people,"  he  says,  "read- 
ing the  newspaper  is  as  regular  an  occupation  as  taking 
breakfast.  The  day  does  not  seem  begun  unless  the  news- 
paper is  read.  Ask  one  of  these  readers  as  he  lays  the 
paper  down,  'Is  there  any  news?'  and  ten  to  one  he  will 
be  unable  to  recall  what  he  has  just  read.  He  has  not 
necessarily  read  inattentively.  He  has,  perhaps,  been  so 
absorbed  that  he  failed  to  see  the  impatience  of  some  one 
near  him  anxious  also  to  get  a  view  of  the  paper.  But 
his  mind  has  been  directed  to  a  great  variety  of  subjects, 
in  all  of  which  he  may  have  an  easy  interest,  and  he  has 
settled  off-hand  a  number  of  cases  which  have  come  up 
for  judgment.     It  is  easy  to  look  at  the  paper  philosoph- 


now  TO  HEAD  PKIllODICALS.  75 

ically  as  ooiitaiuiug  an  epitome  of  tlie  life  of  the  world 
during  the  past  twenty-four  hours,  and,  no  doubt,  in  our 
modern  comprehensiveness  of  interest,  we  feel  as  lively  an 
interest  in  Afghanistan  as  our  fathers  felt  in  Canada;  but 
it  remains  a  fact  that  there  is  quite  as  much  dissipation 
of  thought  as  concentration  in  reading  the  daily  newspaper. 
It  rarely  serves  as  a  mental  stimulus,  or  leaves  one  with  a 
conscious  elevation  of  spirit.  We  do  not  disparage  the 
daily  use  of  the  newspaper,  but  we  desire  to  fix  its  place, 
and  to  remind  ourselves  tliat  it  cannot  be  a  substitute  for 
reading  and  thinking.  The  very  construction  of  a  news- 
paper taiies  it  out  of  the  region  of  literature.  It  has  been 
argued  that  in  process  of  time  educative  processes  wiU 
show  Macaulays  and  Frondes  holding  the  reporters'  pen- 
cils. It  seems  to  be  intended  by  such  phrases  to  denote 
the  elevation  of  reporting  to  a  place  in  literary  art,  and 
those  writers  are  taken  for  models  who  have  held  their 
readers  chiefly  by  the  brilliancy  of  their  style.  Well,  this 
is  not  impossible,  for  the  merits  which  such  writers  have, 
lie  largely  on  the  surface,  and  call  for  little  leisure  either 
in  writer  or  reader.  But  the  daily  newspaper  in  all  its 
parts  must  speak  quickly  and  to  the  point.  What  is  so 
old  as  yesterday's  paper.  When  people  go  to  sea  they 
haste  to  buy  the  very  latest  edition  of  half  a  dozen  dailies; 
their  land  life  is  still  upon  them  and  they  are  driven  by 
it.  But  an  hour  or  two  of  neglect  after  the  steamer  leaves 
its  port  has  lost  them  tlie  opportunity  of  reading.  The 
horizon  of  sea  and  sky  find  no  place  for  the  paper,  and  id 
lies  unread.  The  tendency  in  the  paper  itself  is  to  para- 
graph; and  if  there  is  a  long  report  of  an  address,  or  de- 
tailed account  of  something  just  now  attracting  attention, 
it  is  broken  into  bits  with  headings  so  that  it  need  not 
look  long  and  dull.  Every  concession  is  made  to  the 
hurried,  impatient,  and  listless  reader.  It  is  plain  that 
the  newspaper  serves  a  temporary  end,  even  though  that 
end  is  every  day  renewed.  We  are  not  denying  its  useful- 
ness when  we  plead  for  as  regular  a  daily  reading  which 
shall  have  another  kind  of  value  and  serve  another  end. 
Let  us  suppose  half  an  hour  in  a  hurried  day  given  to  the 
newspaper.  Any  one  who  will  make  the  experiment  may 
see  that  he  can  read  the  same  newspaper  in  one-half  the 
time  by  a  skillful  process  of  elimination.  He  can  omit 
the  accidents,  for  example — at  least  such  as  have  not  be- 


76  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

fallen  his  frieiuls  and  neighbors.  A  glanco  at  the  fires 
will  assure  him  whether  there  is  one  which  concerns  him. 
He  is  not  bound  to  read  the  details  of  even  an  interesting 
one  which  happens  to  be  reported  in  his  paper.  If  it  had 
been  given  in  four  lines  instead  of  forty  he  would  have 
missed  nothing.  Any  one,  by  exercising  a  judicious  self- 
restraint,  can  easily  reduce  his  reading  of  what  he  is  imme- 
diately going  to  put  out  of  his  mind,  one  half." 

As  for  the  reading  of  magazines  and  reviews,  and  of 
newspapers  which  are  devoted  to  comment  and  criticism 
rather  than  news,  it  need  only  be  said  that  the  time  spent 
over  them  need  be  watciied  somewhat  less  strictly,  and 
that  the  following  of  the  same  principle  of  purposey  of 
which  we  have  spoken  so  often,  will  make  easy  the  selec- 
tion of  articles. 


READING  ALOUD,  AND  READING  CLUBS. 

"How  should  we  read?"  asks  Bishop  Alonzo  Potter  in 
liis  still  useful  handbook  for  readers;  and  then  the  good 
bishop  proceeds  to  answer  the  question  in  four  replies: 
"First,  thoughtfully  and  critically;  secondly,  in  company 
with  a  friend,  or  your  family;  thirdly,  repeatedly; 
fourthly,  with  pen  in  hand." 

Reading  aloud,  in  the  company  of  others — the  practice 
commended  by  Bishop  Potter  in  the  second  of  these  rules 
— is  in  every  way  advantageous.  Its  least  important  ad- 
vantage is  nevertheless  highly  salutary;  that  it  affords 
valuable  means  for  elocutionary  development;  and,  aside 
from  this,  it  promotes  thought,  it  stimulates  one  mind  by 
contaci  with  another;  and  it  almost  inevitably  calls  forth, 
by  discussion,  facts  and  opinions  which  otherwise  would 
not  have  been  considered. 

In  one  of  his  recent  jeremiads  on  the  alleged  decline 
and  inutility  of  the  public  school  system,  Mr.  Richard 
Grant  White  oifers  some  suggestions  on  the  training  of 
classes  in  the  art  of  reading  aloud,  which  are  so  sound 
and  sensible  that  they  may  well  be  repeated  here  to  gen- 
eral readers  as  well  as  educators.  "Of  all  knowledge  and 
mental  training,"  says  Mr.  White,  "reading  is  in  our  day 
the  principal  means,  and  reading  aloud  intelligently  the 
unmistakable,  if  not  the  only  sign.     Yet,  this,  which  was 


READING  ALOUD.  AND  READING  CLWBS.  77 

so  coimnon  wheu  the  preseut  generation  of  mature  men 
were  boys,  is  just  Avhat  our  highly  and  scientifically  edu- 
cational educators  seem  either  most  incapable  or  most 
neglectful  of  teaching.  And  yet  the  means  by  which  chil- 
dren were  made  intelligent  and  intelligible  readers,  thirty- 
five  or  forty  years  ago,  were  not  so  recondite  as  to  be 
beyond  attainment  and  use  by  a  teacher  of  moderate  abili- 
ties and  acquirement,  who  set  himself  earnestly  to  his 
work.  As  I  remember  it,  this  was  the  way  in  which  we 
were  taught  to  read  with  pleasure  to  ourselves  and  Avith 
at  least  satisfaction  to  our  readers.  Boys  of  not  more 
than  seven  to  nine  years  old  were  exercised  iu  defining 
words  from  an  abridged  dictionary.  The  word  was  spelled 
and  the  definition  given  from  memory,  and  tlien  the 
teacher  asked  questions  which  tested  the  pupil's  compre- 
hension of  the  definition  tiiat  he  had  given,  and  the 
members  of  the  class,  never  more  than  a  dozen  or  fourteen 
in  number,  were  encouraged  to  give  in  their  own  language 
their  notion  of  the  word  and  to  distinguish  it  from  so- 
called  synonyms.  As  to  the  amount  of  knowledge  that 
was  thus  gained,  it  was  very  little — little,  at  least,  iu 
comparison  with  the  value  of  this  exercise  at  education, 
that  is,  of  mental  training,  which  was  very  great.  The 
same  class  read  aloud  every  day,  and  the  books  that  they 
read  were  of  sufficient  interest  to  tempt  boys  to  read  them 
of  themselves.  .  .  .  When  the  reading  began  all  the 
class  were  obliged  to  follow  the  reader,  each  in  his  own 
book;  for  any  pupil  was  liable  to  be  called  upon  to  take 
up  the  recitation,  even  at  an  unfinished  sentence,  and  go 
on  with  it;  and  if  he  hesitated  in  such  a  manner  as  showed 
that  his  eye  and  mind  were  not  with  the  reader's,  the 
eifect  upon  his  mark  account  was  the  same  as  if  he  him- 
self had  failed  in  reading.  If  the  reading  of  any  sentence 
did  not  showa  just  apprehension  of  its  meaning,  the  reader 
was  stopped  and  the  sentence  was  passed  through  the  class 
for  a  better  expression  of  its  sense.  Whether  this  was 
obtained  from  the  pupils  or  not,  the  teacher  then  explained 
the  sense  or  gave  some  information,  the  want  of  which 
had  caused  the  failure,  and  by  repetition  of  both  readings 
— the  bad  and  the  good — sliowed  by  contrast  and  by  com- 
ment why  the  one  was  bad  and  why  the  other  good. 
Words  were  explained;  if  they  were  compound  words  they 
were  analyzed;    the  diiierent  shades  of  meaning  which 


78  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

words  have  in  different  connections  were  remarked  upon, 
and  the  subject  of  tlie  essa}',  the  narration,  or  the  poem 
which  formed  the  lesson  for  the  day  was  explained.  The 
delivery  of  the  voice  was  attended  to;  not  in  any  preten- 
tious, artificial,  elocutionary  way,  but  with  such  regard 
for  good  and  pleasant  speech  as  was  dictated  by  common 
sense  and  good  breeding.  The  young  readers  were  not 
allowed  to  hang  their  heads  either  over  their  bosoms  or 
over  their  shoulders,  but  were  made  to  stand  -.ip  straight, 
throw  back  their  shoulders,  lift  their  heads  well  up,  so 
that  if  their  eyes  were  taken  from  their  books  they  would 
look  a  man  straight  in  the  face.  Only  in  this  position 
can  the  voice  be  well  delivered.  The  slightest  mispro- 
nunciation was,  of  course,  observed  and  corrected,  and  not 
only  so,  but  bad  enunciation  was  checked,  and  all  slovenly 
mumbling  was  reprehended,  and  as  far  as  possible  re- 
formed. Yet  with  all  this  there  was  constant  caution 
against  a  prim,  pedantic  and  even  a  conscious  mode  of 
reading.  The  end  sought  was  an  iutelligeut,  natural,  and 
simple  delivery  of  every  sentence.  Of  course,  a  lesson  in 
reading  like  this  was  no  trifling  matter.  It  was,  indeed, 
the  longest  recitation  of  the  session,  and  the  one  at  which 
the  instructive  powers  of  the  teacher  were  most  severely 
tested.  But  it  was  the  most  valuable,  the  most  important 
lesson  of  the  day.  By  it  the  pupil  was  taught  not  only  to 
read  well  and  speak  well,  but  to  think.  His  powers  of 
attention  and  apprehension  were  put  in  exercise,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  discriminate  shades  of  meaning  before  he  could 
express  them  by  inflection  of  voice.  Eeading  aloud  well 
was  then  regarded  as  inferior  in  importance  to  no  other 
'branch'  of  education;  it  was  practiced  until  pupils  were 
prepared  to  enter  college,  the  later  reading  lessons  being 
taken  from  Milton  or  Pope  or  Burke,  or  some  other  writers 
of  the  highest  class,  and  being  again  accompanied  by  ex- 
planation and  criticism.  In  the  earlier  years  of  a  boy's  school 
time  any  other  recitation  would  be  omitted  by  the  teacher 
sooner  than  that  of  reading  aloud.  How  it  is,  or  why  it 
is,  that  such  instruction  in  reading  has  fallen  into  disuse 
I  do  not  know.  Indeed,  I  know  that  it  is  disused  only 
by  the  chorus  of  complaint  that  goes  upon  all  sides,  both 
in  England  and  in  the  United  States,  that  children  can- 
not read  aloud  and  that  they  cannot  write  from  dictation. 
This,  of  course,  could  not  be  if  children  were  taught  ia 


READING  ALOUD,  AND  READING  CLUBS.  79 

the  manuer  which  1  have  endeavored  to  describe.  A 
schoolboy  of  eight  or  nine  years  old,  if  taught  in  that 
way,  would  know  how  to  read  English  aloud  decently 
well,  if  he  knew  nothing  else.  And  it  is  really  more  im- 
portant that  he  should  know  how  to  do  this  well,  and  that 
he  should  learn  to  do  it  in  some  such  manuer  as  I  have 
described,  than  that  he  should  begin  the  study  of  the  arts 
and  sciences." 

In  this  connection  there  occurs  to  the  mind  a  single 
verse  of  the  Bible,  which  comprises,  in  twenty-three  words, 
a  whole  treatise  on  the  art  of  reading  aloud:  "So  they 
read  in  the  book  in  the  law  of  God  distinctly,  and  gave 
the  sense,  and  caused  them  to  understand  the  reading." 

This  is  not  the  place  for  any  long  discussion  of  the  ex- 
ternals, so  to  speak,  of  reading  aloud.  As  we  have  said, 
reading  in  the  home  circle,  or  literary  clubs,  binds  mere 
elocutionary  practice  closely  with  a  new  apprehension  of 
the  sense  of  what  is  read,  and  promotes  in  a  high  degree 
the  growth  of  the  culture  of  all  the  persons  who  take  part 
in  it.  Fortunately,  the  habit  is  being  revived  of  late 
years,  both  at  homo  and  in  associations  of  readers.  It 
can  be  taken  up  at  any  time;  nothing  is  easier  than  to 
find  listeners  more  than  williug  to  be  "read  to";  and  the 
custom  will  prove  to  repay  cultivation  to  an  unlimited 
extent.  Of  course  reading  aloud  is  slower  work  than 
reading  to  one's  self;  but  the  advantages  of  deliberate 
thought,  and  of  a  fellowship  with  the  minds  of  others, 
more  than  make  up  this  loss. 

Some  helpful  hints  on  social  literary  work  for  women — 
hints  which  apply,  for  the  most  part,  equally  well  to  men, 
or  to  the  literary  clubs  composed  of  both  sexes — may  well 
be  reprinted  here,  from  the  Christian  Union  in  lieu  of 
further  words  of  my  own.  "In  every  community,"  says 
the  journal,  "there  are  intelligent  women,  with  consider- 
able leisure  at  their  command,  who  have  a  desire  to  be 
helpful,  and  in  the  same  community  there  is  a  class  of 
young  women  who  need  intellectual  stimulus  and  guid- 
ance. How  shall  the  two  bo  brought  together,  so  that 
the  supply  shall  meet  the  demand?  Newspapers,  maga- 
zines, and  public  libraries  all  serve  an  admirable  purpose 
in  the  intellectual  life  of  the  community,  but  they  are 
not  sufficient.  What  is  needed  is  personal  influence  and 
power,  and  this  is  just  the  element  which   intelligent 


80  THE  CnoiCE  OF  BOOKS. 

■women  are  able  to  8up])ly.  Almost  every  village,  certainly 
every  larger  town,  contains  a  nnmber  of  recent  graduates 
from  high-schools  and  seminaries,  who  are  not  able,  for 
OHO  reason  or  another,  to  complete  their  school  education 
by  a  full  college  course.  Now,  to  girls  of  tliis  class,  a 
woman  of  tact  and  intelligence  can  render  the  greatest 
})ossible  service  by  helping  them  to  preserve  the  habits  of 
study  they  have  already  formed,  to  keep  alive  the  intel- 
lectual interest  and  curiosity  that  have  been  awakened  in 
them,  and  by  giving  tliera  just  that  impulse  which  shall 
keep  them  drinking  continually  at  the  running  streams  of 
knowledge.  The  training  of  the  best  schools  fails  unless 
it  emphasizes  the  importance  of  continual  and  systematic 
study  as  the  habit  of  a  lifetime,  but  it  is  just  this  which 
large  numbers  of  bright  and  promising  graduates  from 
the  higher  schools  fail  to  carry  away  with  them.  They 
go  home  from  their  last  term  with  a  latent  desire  for 
fuller  knowledge,  but  that  desire  is  not  strong  enough  to 
carry  them  through  the  interruptions  home  life  brings  to 
a  regular  course  of  study,  and  what  they  need  is  an  im- 
pulse from  without,  and  the  guidance  of  some  raatnre  and 
trained  mind.  Any  intelligent  woman  can  find  a  noble 
work  for  herself  by  opening  her  doors  to  girls  of  this  class, 
and  providing  in  her  home  a  kind  of  post-graduate  course 
for  them.  No  study  and  no  teaching  is  so  delightful  as 
that  which  is  full  of  the  element  of  personality,  in  which 
teacher  and  scholars  meet  on  a  social  basis  and  as  friends 
mutually  interested  in  the  same  work,  in  which  the 
methods  are  entirely  informal  and  conversational,  and  the 
result  the  largest  and  freest  discussion  of  the  subject. 
An  experiment  of  this  kind  need  not  bo  a  heavy  task  on 
the  teacher  either  in  time  or  effort.  A  class  may  be 
formed  which  shall  meet  for  un  hour  once  or  twice  a 
week,  taking  any  subject  for  study  that  has  vital  connec- 
tion with  life.  Nothing  could  be  more  stimulating  and 
interesting,  for  instance,  than  a  study  of  the  age  of  Peri- 
cles in  Greek  history,  taking  Curtius  as  a  historical  basis, 
and  reading  in  connection  an  account  of  the  Greek  poets 
of  that  period,  .  .  .  to  which  may  be  profitably  added 
discussions  on  the  Grecian  art  of  the  day,  and  chapters 
from  such  books  as  'Mahaffy's  .Social  Life  among  the 
Greeks.'  Half  a  dozen  other  historical  epochs  are  quite 
as  interesting  and  fruitful;  that  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth, 


BEADING  ALOUD,  AND  BEADING  CLUBS.  81 

for  instauce,  iu  French  history;  that  of  Elizabeth  iu 
English  history,  the  richest  and  most  fascinating  epoch 
in  the  development  of  the  English  race.  No  snbject  will 
be  more  entertaining  in  itself  or  open  up  so  many  paths 
of  private  reading  and  study  as  Englisli  literature.  An 
excellent  plan  would  be  to  take  Stopford  Brooke's  'Primer 
of  English  Ijiterature'  as  a  connecting  thread  of  study, 
and  with  it  as  a  guide  to  make  the  grand  tour  of  English 
literature,  taking  each  great  author  in  his  turn  and  mak- 
ing such  study  of  his  life  and  work  as  would  be  within 
the  power  of  an  ordinarily  intelligent  person.  Different 
authors  may  be  assigned  to  different  members  of  the  class, 
who  shall  specially  study  up  and  give  account  of  them,  so 
that  the  principal  facts  of  their  lives,  the  special  qualities 
of  their  work  and  the  particular  impulse  which  they  im- 
parted to  their  age  may  be  made  the  possession  of  the 
whole  class.  Then  there  is  the  great  field  of  art,  which 
by  the  aid  of  the  admirable  text-books  now  being  pub- 
lished, may  be  intelligently  and  profitably  traversed  by 
those  who  have  no  opportunities  for  technical  knowledge, 
but  who  desire  to  know  art  in  its  historical  aspects,  and 
to  be  able  by  knowledge  of  its  historical  development  to 
understand  the  schools  of  the  present  day.  These  hints 
will  suggest  a  multiplicity  of  topics  that  might  with  the 
utmost  profit  be  studied  in  this  way.  Every  woman  who 
desires  to  make  the  experiment  can  easily  settle  the  ques- 
tion of  what  subject  she  shall  take,  by  consulting  her  own 
culture,  her  own  tastes,  and  the  needs  of  those  whom  she 
wishes  to  help.  The  sj)ecial  knowledge  to  be  imi)arted  is 
not  of  so  much  value  as  the  habit  of  study,  Avhich  is  to  be 
strengthened  and  made  continuous  in  the  life  of  the 
student." 

In  the  formation  of  classes  like  those  indicated  above — 
in  which  reading  aloud  must  of  course  play  a  very  large 
part — or  of  Shakespeare  clubs  or  social  literary  organiza- 
tions in  general,  two  things  should  never  be  forgotten; 
that  almost  any  kind  of  a  beginning  is  better  than  none; 
and  that  the  constitution  and  by-laws  of  the  society,  if  it 
is  deemed  necessary  to  have  any,  should  be  of  the  simplest 
character  possible. 

Edward  Everett  Hale  says  that,  in  his  experience  as  a 
parish  minister,  he  looks  back  on  the  work  which  reading 
classes  have  done  with  him,  with  more  satisfaction  than 


82  THE  CHOKE  OE  BOOKS. 

on  any  other  organized  eilort  in  whicli  he  has  shared  for 
tlie  education  of  the  young.  His  most  important  hints 
for  the  management  of  such  classes  are  as  follows: 

"It  seems  desirable  that  a  class  shall  be  of  such  a  size 
that  free  conversation  may  be  easy.  If  the  number  ex- 
ceeds thiity,  the  members  hardly  become  intimate  with 
each  other,  and  there  is  a  certain  shyness  about  speaking 
out  in  meeting.  The  size  of  the  room  has  some  effect 
also  in  this  matter. 

"I  think  that  in  the  choice  of  the  subject  the  range 
may  easily  be  too  large.  It  seems  desirable  that  the 
members  of  the  class  shall  know  at  the  beginning  what 
their  winter's  work  is  to  be  so  specifically  that  they  can 
adjust  to  it  their  general  readings.  Even  the  choice  of 
novels  for  relaxation,  or  the  selection  of  what  they  will 
read  and  what  they  will  not,  in  newspapers,  magazines, 
and  reviews,  depends  on  this  first  choice  of  subject.  The 
leader  of  tlie  class  should  give  a  good  deal  of  time  to  prep- 
aration. The  more  he  knows,  the  better,  of  course;  but 
all  that  is  absolutely  necessary  is  that  he  shall  keep  a 
little  in  advance  of  the  class  and  shall  be  willing  to  work 
and  read.  A  true  man  or  woman  will,  of  course  'confess 
ignorance'  frankly.  1  should  rather  have  in  a  leader  good 
practical  knowledge  of  books  of  reference  and  the  way  to 
use  public  libraries  than  large  specific  knowledge  of  the 
subject  in  hand.  Of  course  it  would  be  better  to  have 
botli.  And  1  think  a  class  is  wise  in  leaving  to  its  leader 
the  selection  of  the  topic.  Granting  these  preliminaries, 
I  should  urge,  and  almost  insist,  that  no  one  should  at- 
tend the  class  who  would  not  promise  to  attend  to  the 
end.  Nothing  is  so  ruinous  as  the  presence  of  the  virgins 
who  have  no  oil  in  their  vessels,  and  are  in  the  outer 
darkness  before  the  course  is  half  done.  I  think  it  is  well 
to  agree  in  the  beginning  on  a  small  fee — of  a  dollar  or 
half  a  dollar — which  can  be  expended  in  books  of  refer- 
ence, or  supper,  or  charity,  or  anything  else  desirable. 
The  real  object  of  the  fee  is  weeding  out  unreliable 
roenibers. 

"Every  member  should  have  a  note-book  and  pencil, 
and  those  who  do  not  take  notes  should  be  expelled. 
What  is  hoard  at  such  classes,  with  no  memorandum  to 
connect  it  with  after-work,  goes  in  at  one  ear  and  out  at 
the  other. 


BOOKS  AT  HOME.  83 

"To  maiie  sure  that  each  member  takes  notes,  it  is  well 
to  keep  oue  class  journal.  At  the  end  of  each  ineeting, 
assign  tlie  making  up  of  this  journal  to  soma  one  of  the 
class,  selected  by  accident.  The  length  of  this  journal 
should  be  limited — say  to  a  single  page  of  a  writing-book. 
Otherwise  the  ambitious  members  vie  with  each  other  in 
making  them  long,  whicli  is  in  no  way  desirable.  All 
you  want  is  the  merest  brief  of  the  work  done  at  each 
meeting.     .     .     . 

"The  leader  will  very  soon  get  a  knowledge  of  what  the 
different  members  of  the  class  can  and  will  do.  Indeed, 
the  consideration  of  what  they  want  to  do  will  become  an 
important  part  of  his  arrangements.  He  should  remember 
that  they  are  all  volunteers,  that  it  is  no  business  of  his 
to  drive  up  a  particular  laggard  to  his  work,  but  rather  to 
make  the  class  as  profitable  as  he  can  for  all." 


BOOKS   AT    HOME. 

Everybody  ought  to  own  books.  A  house  without 
books  has  tieen  well  called  a  literary  Sahara;  and  how 
many  of  thein  there  are!  We  are  a  "reading  people;" 
but  nothing  is  easier  to  find  than  homes  in  wliich  the 
furniture,  the  pictures,  the  ornaments — everything,  is  an 
object  of  greater  care  and  expense  than  the  library.  Is  it 
any  wonder  that  their  inmates,  Avhatever  their  so-called 
wealth  or  comfort,  are  intellectual  starvelings? 

Among  the  many  wise  things  that  Mr.  Beecher  has 
said,  there  is  none  wiser  than  his  words  about  bouks  in 
the  house.  "  We  form  judgments  of  men,"  says  he, 
"from  little  things  about  their  houses,  of  which  the 
owner,  perhaps,  never  thinks.  In  earlier  years  when 
traveling  in  the  "West,  Avhere  taverns  were  scarce,  and  in 
some  places  nnknown,  and  every  settler's  house  was  a 
house  of  entertainment,  it  was  a  matter  of  some  impor- 
tance and  some  experience  to  select  wisely  where  you 
should  put  up.  And  we  always  looked  for  flowers.  If 
there  were  no  trees  for  shaile,  no  patch  of  flowers  in  the 
yard,  we  were  suspicious  of  the  jilace.  But  no  matter 
how  rude  the  cabin  or  rough  the  surroundings,  if  we  saw 
tlmt  the  window  held  a  little  trough  for  flowers,  and  that 
some  vines  tM'ined  about  strings  let  down  from  the  eaves,  we 


84  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

were  confident  that  there  was  some  taste  and  carefulness  in 
the  log-cabin.  In  a  new  country,  wliere  people  have  to  tug 
for  a  living,  no  one  will  take  the  trouble  to  rear  flowers 
unless,  the  love  of  them  is  pretty  strong;  and  this  taste 
blossoming  out  of  plain  and  uncultivated  people,  is  itself  a 
clump  of  harebells  growing  out  of  the  seams  of  a  rock. 
We  were  seldom  misled.  A  patch  of  flowers  came  to  sig- 
nify kind  people,  clean  beds,  and  good  bread.  But  in 
other  states  of  society  other  signs  are  more  significant. 
Flowers  about  a  rich  man's  house  may  signify  only  that 
he  has  a  good  gardener,  or  that  ho  has  refined  neighbors, 
and  does  what  he  sees  them  do.  But  men  are  not  accus- 
tomed to  buy  books,  unless  they  want  them.  If  on  visit- 
ing the  dwelling  of  a  man  in  slender  means  we  find  that 
he  coutents  himself  with  cheap  carpets  and  very  plain 
furniture  in  order  that  he  may  purchase  books,  he  rises 
at  once  in  our  esteem.  Books  are  not  made  for  furniture, 
but  there  is  nothing  else  that  so  beautifully  furnishes  a 
house.  The  plainest  row  of  books  that  cloth  or  paper 
ever  covered  is  more  significant  of  refinement  than  the 
most  elaborately  carved  etagere  or  sideboard.  Give  us  a 
house  furnished  with  books  rather  than  furniture.  Both, 
if  you  can,  but  books  at  any  rate!  To  spend  several  days 
in  a  friend's  house,  and  hunger  for  something  to  read, 
while  you  are  treading  on  costly  carpets  and  sitting  on 
luxurious  chairs,  and  sleeping  upon  down,  is  as  if  one  were 
bribing  your  body  for  the  sake  of  cheating  your  mind. 
Is  it  not  pitiable  to  see  a  man  growing  rich,  augmenting 
the  comfort  of  home,  and  lavishing  money  on  ostentatious 
upholstery,  upon  the  table,  upon  everything  but  what  the 
soul  needs?  We  know  of  many  and  many  a  rich  man's 
house  where  it  would  not  be  safe  to  ask  for  the  common- 
est English  classics.  A  few  garish  annuals  on  the  table, 
a  few  pictorial  monstrosities,  together  with  the  stock 
religious  books  of  his  'persuasion,'  and  that  is  all.  No 
poets,  no  essayists,  no  historians,  no  travels  or  biogra- 
phies, no  select  fiction,  no  curious  legendary  lore.  But 
the  wall  paper  cost  three  dollars  a  roll,  and  the  carpet 
cost  four  dollars  a  yard !  Books  are  the  windows  through 
which  the  soul  looks  out.  A  homo  without  books  is  like 
a  room  without  windows.  No  man  has  a  right  to  bring 
up  his  children  without  snrroundiug  tliem  with  books  if 
he  has  the  means  to  buy  them.     It  is  a  wrong  to  his 


noOKS  A  T  HOME.  85 

family.  He  cheats  tliein!  Children  learn  to  read  by 
being  in  the  presence  of  books.  The  love  of  knowledge 
comes  with  reading  and  grows  npon  it.  And  the  love  of 
knowledge  in  a  yonng  mind  is  almost  a  warrant  against 
the  inferior  excitement  of  passions  and  vices.  Let  us 
pity  these  poor  rich  men  who  live  barrenly  in  great  book- 
less houses!  Let  ns  congratulate  tiie  poor  that,  in  our 
day,  books  are  so  cheap  that  a  man  may  every  year  add  a 
hundred  volumes  to  his  library  for  the  price  which  his 
tobacco  and  his  beer  would  cost  him.  Among  the  earliest 
ambitions  to  be  excited  in  clerks,  workmen,  journeymen, 
and,  indeed,  among  all  that  are  struggling  up  in  life  from 
nothing  to  something,  is  that  of  owning  and  constantly 
adding  to  a  library  of  good  books.  A  little  library  grow- 
ing larger  every  year  is  an  honorable  part  of  a  young 
man's  history.  It  is  a  man's  duty  to  have  books.  A 
ibrary  is  not  a  luxury,  but  one  of  the  necessaries  of  life." 
In  this  connection,  do  you  remember  Chaucer's  "Clerk 
of  Oxenford,"  who  stinted  himself  in  every  other  way  in 
order  that  he  might  have  money  to  buy  books? 

A  Clerk  ther  was  of  Oxenford  also, 

That  unto  logik  hadde  long  i-go, 

Al-so  lene  was  his  hors  as  is  a  rake, 

And  he  was  not  right  fat,  I  undertake  ; 

But  lokede  holwe,  and  therto  soburly. 

Ful  thredbare  was  his  overest  courtepy. 

For  he  hadde  nought  geten  him  yet  a  benefice, 

Ne  was  not  worthy  to  haven  an  office. 

For  him  was  lever  have  at  his  beddes  heed 

Twenty  bookes,  clothed  in  blak  and  reed. 

Of  Aristotil,  and  of  his  philosophie. 

Than  robus  riche,  or  fithul,  or  sawtrie. 

But  al-though  he  were  a  philosophre. 

Yet  hadde  he  but  lilul  gold  in  cofre  ; 

But  al  that  he  mighte  gete,  and  his  friendes  sende. 

On  bookes  and  his  lernying  he  it  spende. 

And  busily  gan  for  the  soules  praye 

Of  hem  that  yaf  him  wherwith  to  scolaye. 

Of  studie  took  ha  moste  cure  and  heed. 

Not  oo  word  spak  he  more  than  was  neede  ; 

All  that  he  spak  it  was  off  heye  prudence, 

And  short  and  quyk,  and  full  of  gret  sentence. 

Sownynge  in  moral  manere  was  his  speche, 

And  gladly  wolde  he  lerne,  and  gladly  teche. 

"To  be  without   books  of  your  own  is  the   abyss  of 
penury;    don't   endure    it!"    exclaims   Ruskin.      Lyman 


86  THE  CHOICE  OF  r.ooKS. 

Abbott  declares  that  "the  home  oii(;ht  no  more  to  be 
without  a  library  tlian  without  a  dining-room  and  kitchen. 
If  you  have  hut  one  room,  and  it  is  lighted  by  the  great 
wood  lire  in  the  Haming  fire-phico,  as  Abraham  Lincoln's 
was,  do  as  Abraham  Lincoln  did:  pick  out  one  corner  of 
your  fire-place  for  a  library,  and  use  it."  Still  another 
truth  is  well  stated  by  Sir  Artlnir  Helps  in  a  few  words: 
"A  man  never  gets  so  nnich  good  out  of  a  book  as  when 
he  possesses  it." 

I'he  influence  of  the  home  library  upon  all  the  members 
of  the  family,  and  especially  the  younger  ones,  can  hardly 
be  overstated.  The  biographies  of  literary  men,  and  of 
great  men  not  literary,  are  full  of  testimonies  to  the  value 
of  the  neighborhood  and  society  of  books  in  early  youth. 
"I  like  books,"  says  Dr.  Holmes,  "I  was  born  and  bred 
among  them."  He  has  lately  told  us,  in  an  amusing  way, 
what  sort  of  a  library  he  was  '*  brought  up"  in;  and,  great 
reader  though  he  has  been,  has  lamented  that  he  has  not 
read  even  more:  "It  was  very  largely  theological,  so  that 
I  was  walled  in  by  solemn  folios,  making  the  shelves  bend 
under  the  loads  of  sacred  learning.  Walton's  Polygot 
Bible  was  one  of  them.  'Poli-synopsis'  was  another;  a 
black-letter  copy  Avas  of  Fox's  'Acts  and  Monuments,' 
another,  and  so  on.  Higher  up  on  the  shelves  stood 
Fleury's  'Ecclesiastical  History,'  in  twenty-live  volumes 
octavo.  In  one  of  these  volumes  a  book-worm  had  eaten 
his  way  straight  through  from  beginning  to  end,  leaving  a 
round  hole  tlirough  every  leaf,  as  if  a  small  shot  had  gone 
through  it.  My  father  wrote  some  verses  about  it,  I  rec- 
ollect, beginning:  'See  here,  my  son,  what  industry  can 
do.'  I  wish  I  had  jirofited  better  by  them.  I  have  not 
been  the  most  indolent  of  mortals,  but  the  industry  of 
some  of  my  acquaintances  .  .  .  makes  mo  feel  as  if  1 
had  been  lazy  in  comparison.  I  do  not  remember  whether 
I  have  told  this  in  any  of  my  books  or  not;  at  any  rate, 
the  lesson  taught  by  tiie  book- worm  and  turned  into  verse 
by  my  father  is  one  by  which  any  young  person  may 
profit."  Another  contemporary  writer,  Edmund  About, 
has  similarly  ascribed  his  formation  of  the  reading  habit 
to  his  father's  care  in  collecting  a  library:  "I?eadingis 
assuredly  an  excellent  thing,  and  my  father  never  would 
forego  it,  after  he  had  attained  some  leisure  and  aflluence. 
By  degrees  he  had   obtained  five  or  six   hundred   well- 


BOOKS  AT  UOME.  87 

choseu  volumes.  He  constantly  turned  over  the  leaves  of 
the  'Encyclopedia  of  Useful  Knowledge'  and  Boret's 
manuals ;'^  lie  hiifl  even  subscribed  with  three  or  four 
neighbors  to  a  liberal  Paris  paper;  but  he  prized  far 
above  all  the  knowledge  that  he  had  gained  quite  alone. 
Gently  and  patiently  he  also  accustomed  me  to  look  and 
think  for  myself,  instead  of  imposing  upon  me  his  ideas, 
which  my  docile,  submissive  spirit,  would  have  blindly 
accepted."  In  lieu  of  a  thousand  similar  utterances,  per- 
haps it  will  be  enough  to  quote  what  a  veteran  journalist, 
Mr.  Charles  T.  Congdon,  has  lately  written  on  the  en- 
couragement of  a  love  and  a  care  for  books  on  the  part  of 
children:  "I  would  early  encourage  in  children  a  rever- 
ence for  books.  The  need  of  it  is  the  greater,  because 
school  business  so  tends  to  raggedness  and  destruction. 
And  this  naturally  brings  me  to  a  topic  which  is  well 
worth  considering — I  mean  the  care  and  preservation  of 
books.  I  have  known  young  people  who  were  highly 
particular  in  the  conservation  of  their  small  libraries;  and 
I  think  that  this  is  a  tendency  which  it  would  be  well  for 
parents  and  guardians  to  encourage.  I  argue  well  of  a 
child  who  carefully  conserves  its  books,  covers  them,  and 
ranges  them  on  a  little  slielf  in  a  little  row.  When  I  en- 
counter this  particularity,  I  see  before  me  future  collectors 
and  bibliographers  in  embryo.  And  what  I  say  to  the 
children,  I  would  say  to  adults.  It  is  so  hard  to  get 
books,  and  so  easy  to  lend  and  to  lose  them.  Nobody  can 
have  a  library  unless  he  takes  good  care  of  what  comes 
into  it.  All  the  great  gatherings  have  a  small  start. 
There  is  a  curious  story  of  the  beginning  of  Richard 
Heber's  magnificent  library,  which  is  told  in  Burton's 
'Book-Hunter,'  and  which  is  worth  repeating  here,  be- 
cause Burton's  'Book-Hunter'  has  become  so  scarce. 
Heber  accidentally  met  with  a  little  volume  called  'The 
Vallie  of  Varieti,'  by  Henry  Peacham.  He  took  it  to  Mr. 
Bindley,  the  celebrated  collector,  and  asked  him  if  it  was 
not  a  curious  book.  'Yes,'  answered  Mr.  Bindley,  'not 
very — but  rather  a  curious  book.'  What  came  of  this, 
those  who  know  anything  of  the  enormous  Heber  collec- 
tion will  understand.  From  that  day  forth  Richard 
Heber  was  a  bibliomaniac.  He  would  travel  hundreds  of 
miles  to  buy  a  book  which  he  did  not  possess. 
In  advising  young  people  respecting  the  formation  of  a 


S8  TUE  CllOlChJ  OF  BOOKS. 

library,  my  advice  -would  be  not  to  lend  but  to  keep. 
Nobody  can  have  a  decent  collection  unless  he  takes  good 
care  of  it;  but  it  is  easier  to  lose  than  to  acquire.  I 
know  nothing  like  the  immorality  which  pervades  the 
ranks  of  borrowers.  They  forget  to  bring  back,  and 
sometimes,  I  fear,  they  do  not  forget.  I  would  not  say  a 
word  about  it,  for  fear  of  hurting  the  feelings  of  some- 
body who  will  find  my  book-plate  in  some  volume  upon 
his  shelf  if  he  will  look  for  it,  unless,  indeed,  he  has  erad- 
icated it — I  would  not,  I  say,  speak  a  word  of  the  matter 
if  I  were  not  writing  for  children,  and  begging  tiiem  to 
keep  their  books  together.  It  will  be  such  a  promising 
beginning.  It  will  teach  such  habits  of  care.  It  will 
give  them  so  much  pleasure  hereafter  to  look  at  what  so 
delighted  them  when  the  world  was  new  and  small  things 
charming.  One  cannot  expect  these  young  people  to  be 
learned  in  Lowndes,  or  really  to  know  how  a  book  can 
cumulate  in  value;  hut  they  may  take  my  word  for  it 
that  what  was  worth  reading,  it  would  be  wise  to  preserve." 

I  have  just  happened  to  find  some  sensible  words  of  the 
same  sort  m  a  country  weekly,  the  very  place  where  such 
expressions  are  likely  to  do  most  good  to  the  local  public: 
"Nothing  is  more  important  to  young  people  than  an 
early  love  for  good  books.  In  no  way  can  this  love  be 
better  fostered  than  by  the  formation  of  home  libraries. 
No  matter  how  few  or  small  the  books  are,  to  commence 
with,  they  will  make  a  beginning,  and  you  will  wonder  at 
its  growth.  Don't  have  the  books  scattered  about,  but 
collect  them.  Any  boy  can  make,  shelves  which  are  good 
enough,  and  the  very  act  of  getting  your  books  together 
will  form  a  desire  for  more.  When  you  have  thus  made 
a  beginning,  make  it  a  rule  never  to  add  a  poorer  'trashy' 
book.  A  good  book  is  worth  a  hundred  of  the  other  kind. 
In  this  day  of  cheap  books  there  is  no  reason  why  every 
boy  .  .  .  need  not  have  something  of  a  library." 
And  boys  may  well  remember  that  from  such  a  begin- 
ning great  results  may  grow.  From  no  greater  a  collec- 
tion than  any  young  reader  can  easily  make,  the  historian 
Gibbon  tells  us  tliat  he  gradually  formed  a  numerous  and 
select  library,  "the  foundation  of  my  works,  and  the  best 
comfort  of  my  life,  both  at  home  and  abroad." 

Aside  from  the  reading  of  books,  their  mere  society  and 
companionship  is  of  high  advantage.      Boswell  tells  us 


BOOKS  A  T  HOME.  89 

that  Dr.  Jobusou  thonglit  it  well  even  to  look  at  the 
backs  of  books:  "No  soouer  had  we  made  our  bow  to  Mr. 
Cambridge,  'n  his  library,  tiian  Johnson  ran  eagerly  to 
one  side  of  the  room,  intent  on  poring  over  the  backs  of 
the  books.  Sir  Joshii.i  [Reynolds]  observed  (aside),  'He 
runs  to  the  books  as  I  do  to  the  pictures;  but  I  have  the 
advantage.  I  can  see  much  more  of  the  pictures  than  he 
can  of  the  books.'  Mr.  Cambridge,  upon  this,  politely 
said,  'Dr.  Johnson,  I  am  going,  Avith  your  pardon,  to 
accuse  myself,  for  I  have  the  same  custom  which  I  per- 
ceive you  have.  But  it  seems  odd  that  we  should  have 
such  a  desire  to  look  at  the  backs  of  books.'  Johnson, 
ever  ready  for  contest,  instantly  started  from  his  reverie, 
wheeled  about  and  answered,  'Sir,  the  reason  is  very 
plain.  Knowledge  is  of  two  kinds.  AVe  know  a  subject 
ourselves,  or  we  know  where  can  find  information  upon 
it.  When  we  inquire  into  any  subject,  the  first  thing  we 
have  to  do  is  to  know  what  books  have  treated  of  it. 
This  leads  us  to  look  at  catalogues,  and  the  backs  of 
books  in  libaries.'  Sir  Joshua  observed  to  me  the  ex- 
traordinary promptitude  with  which  Johnson  flew  upon 
an  argument.  'Yes,'  said  I,  'he  has  no  formal  prepara- 
tions, no  flourishing  with  his  sword;  he  is  through  your 
body  in  an  instant.'"  People  who  are  accustomed  to 
know  where  particular  books  are,  are  able  to  fly  to  them 
in  an  emergency;  and  sometimes  a  little  library  at  home, 
well  understood,  is  a  more  effective  armory  than  a  great 
collection,  unknown. 

Dr.  J.  A.  Langford,  an  English  writer  who  has  lately 
made  a  graceful  and  serviceable  collection  of  quotations 
from  English  authors  on  books  and  reading,  cites  Charles 
Lamb's  expression:  "What  a  place  to  be  in  is  an  old 
library!"  and  then  proceeds  to  speak  of  the  society  of 
books,  in  a  strain  of  affectionate  eloquence  with  which 
any  book-lover  can  sympathize:  "It  is  a  delight  to  merely 
look  at  books — in  a  state  of  quiet  reverie  to  dream  of  the 
rich  fruit  which  you  will  not  pluck,  of  the  sweet  grapes 
which  you  will  not  taste.  There,  spread  before  you, 
is  a  banquet  fit  for  gods,  and  the  consciousness  that 
you  could  eat  and  be  satisfied  fills  up  your  cup  of  pleasure 
to  the  brim.  It  is  a  feast  at  which  the  imagination  sup- 
plies ambrosia  and  nectar,  and,  for  the  time,  coarser  food 
is  neither  required  nor  desired.     You  walk  in  meadows  of 


90  THE  (HOICK  OF  BOOKS. 

asphodel,  and  in  the  gardens  of  the  Hesperides,  and  liavo 
no  wish  to  ])luck  a  flower,  or  to  gather  the  fruit.  It  is 
enough  that  they  are  there,  and  that  the  spirits  who  guard 
them  are  read}'  to  sup[)ly  you  with  hotli.'*  Nor  is  such  a 
sentiment  any  less  likely  to  come,  in  a  true  sense,  to  the 
owner  of  a  few  hooks,  than  to  the  visitor  at  the  largest 
library.  The  true  owner  of  books  loves  his  books,  and 
they  come  to  have  real  personalities.  When  ])Oor  Southey, 
after  a  life  of  hard  work  among  books,  lost  his  mind,  and 
even  the  power  to  read  a  word,  he  spent  hours  and  hours 
in  just  wandering  through  liis  library,  feeling  his  books, 
and  petting  them,  and  laying  his  head  against  them. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  advise  buyers  to  possess  this  or 
that  particular  book,  nor  to  present  to  them  a  definite 
list  of  ten,  fifty,  a  hundred,  or  a  thousand  volumes,  and 
say,  "Buy  these,  and  you  will  have  a  library."  The  ])re- 
ceding  chapters  in  this  series  have  sufficiently  indicated, 
I  trust,  what  sort  of  books  one  ought  to  read,  and  how 
his  selection  of  books  to  own  may  best  be  guided  and  lim- 
ited. Any  intelligent  person  can  tell,  when  he  reads  a 
catalogue  of  publications,  or  visits  a  bookstore,  what  are 
the  standard  books  for  all  time,  and  what  are  those  which 
are  good  books  for  him  and  his  to  read.  Every  one's 
conscience,  too,  will  tell  him  what  books  to  shun.  Some 
volumes  are  to  be  read  for  a  temporary  purpose,  and  the 
choice  of  books  to  own  should,  of  course,  be  borne  in 
mind.  Buy  nothing  that  you  are,  or  Avill  be,  ashamed  of, 
and  remember  that  "art  is  long,  and  time  is  fleeting." 
In  a  word,  choose  your  books  as  you  would  choose  your 
friends  and  helpers. 

The  collector  of  a  home  library  should  not  be  discour- 
aged because  there  are  so  many  books  in  the  world,  and 
he  can  buy  so  few.  Says  Emerson:  "  I  visit  occasionally 
the  Cambridge  Library,  and  I  can  seldom  go  there  with- 
out renewing  the  conviction  that  the  best  of  it  all  is 
already  within  the  four  walls  of  my  study  at  home.  The 
inspection  of  the  catalogue  brings  mo  continually  back  to 
the  few  standard  writers  who  are  on  every  private  shelf; 
and  to  these  it  can  afford  only  the  most  sligiit  and  casual 
additions.  The  crowds  and  centuries  of  books  are  only 
commentary  and  elucidation,  echoes  and  weakeners  of 
these  few  great  voices  of  Time."  In  precisely  the  same 
strain  are  these  words  from  a  recent  editorial  in  the  Fall 


BOOKS  A  T  ROME.  91 

Mall  Gazette^  of  London:  "It  is  some  comfort  to  reflect 
that  without  possessing  a  library  equal  to  that  of  the 
Britisli  Museum,  and  indeed  one  which  can  be  coaxed 
into  a  single  room  of  moderate  dimensions,  one  may  have 
everything  in  the  way  of  literature  which  has  been  so  far 
produced  by  the  human  race  which  is  still  worth  reading 
— not  to  say  a  good  deal  more.  A  large  collection  of 
English  poets,  from  Chaucer  to  Cowper,  will  go  upon  a 
small  shelf;  and  all  that  has  since  been  written  of  any 
importance  will  fail  to  fill  another.  Three-fourths  even 
of  that  collection  is  of  interest  only  in  a  historical  sense. 
And  truly  it  suggests  melancholy  as  well  as  comfort  to 
look  round  any  decent  libraiy,  to  mark  the  collected 
works  even  of  tlie  greatest,  and  to  remember  how  small  is 
the  proportion  of  grain  to  chaff." 

As  for  tlie  choice  of  editions  cf  books  to  own,  a  remark 
of  Dr.  Johnson's  is  worth  remembering,  though,  of  course, 
not  of  universal  application:  "Books  that  yon  may  carry 
to  the  fire,  and  hold  readily  in  your  hand,  are  tlie  most 
useful  after  all." 

The  care  of  the  home  library  should  chiefly  consist  of 
keeping  its  contents  accessible  and  neat.  Books  that  are 
imprisoned,  or  are  kept  in  unfrequented  rooms,  are  de- 
prived of  half  their  nsefulness.  It  is  better  to  have  a 
book  worn  out  with  use,  or  faded  by  sunlight,  or  kept 
where  it  needs  a  daily  dusting,  than  to  have  it  preserved 
like  a  stuffed  bird  in  a  glass  case.  Open  shelves  are  better 
than  glass-doored  bookcases,  and  the  original  binding  of 
the  book  is  better  than  a  brown-paper  cover.  Who  would 
like  a  friend  always  dressed  in  a  "duster?"  or  who  would 
enjoy  living  in  one  of  those  melancholy  rooms  where  all 
the  furniture  is  shrouded  in  linen?  Brown  paper  book- 
covers  may  be  excusable  in  public  libraries,  but  never  in 
private  ones.  A  few  hints,  selected  from  a  recent  paper 
l3y  Mr.  S.  L.  Boardnian,  will  be  found  serviceable: 
"Whatever  the  room  chosen  for  the  library,  let  it  be 
warm  and  sunny,  on  the  south  side  of  the  house  if  possi- 
ble, and  plainly  furnished,  for  what  furnishing  so  gorgeous 
and  attractive  as  good  books?  An  open  fire  is  the  only 
means  of  warming  that  should  ever  be  thought  of  in  a 
library  room.  .  .  .  And  remember;  no  glazed  doors! 
I  was  gratified  a  few  weeks  ago,  in  visiting  a  friend,  to 
find  that  he  had  taken  the  glazed  doors  from  his  library 


92  TIIK  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

cases;  and  I  wish  everybody  who  has  these  useless  tilings 
would  do  the  same.  They  are  not  a  proteetiou  against 
dust;  they  are  always  in  the  way;  no  one  is  going  to 
carry  fvway  your  books  without  leave  when  you  invite  him 
to  your  library;  and  when  you  want  a  book  you  do  not 
care  to  be  bothered  by  a  bunch  of  keys.  Besides,  books 
have  a  far  more  cheerful  and  social  look  when  you  can 
readily  see  them,  and  handle  them,  and  become  acquainted 
witli  them,  than  when  they  are  locked  up  as  though  you 
were  afraid  somebody  would  read  them,  or  that  they 
would  make  somebody  happy  if  he  could  only  turn  ovei' 
their  magic  pages.  Open  cases,  tlien,  for  all  books  in 
private  libraries,  especially  in  what  we  call  'working 
libraries.'  .  .  .  Do  not  put  too  much  money  in  ex- 
pensive and  luxuriant  bindings.  I  am  not  talking  to  the 
wealthy  bibliophile  who  is  able  to  employ  Bedford,  or 
Pawson,  or  Charles  White  to  bind  his  books  regardless  of 
cost,  but  to  the  average  book  lover  or  collector.  Put  the 
extra  money  your  fine  bindings  would  cost  into  more  and 
more  serviceable  books,  and  be  happy.  Choose  editions 
iu  plain  substantial  dress,  and  leave  elaborate  gilding,  and 
blind  tooling,  and  silk  linings,  to  your  exquisite  fancier. 
Books  should  never  be  crowded  tightly  on  the 
shelves.  They  should  be  so  kindly  disposed  as  to  gently 
support  each  other.  Great  injury  comes  from  placing 
them  too  closely  together.  Books  are  generally  taken 
down  from  their  positions  by  the  top  of  the  backs,  and  in 
many,  many  instances  I  have  seen  books,  some  of  which 
were  in  their  day  strongly  bound,  completely  broken  away 
at  the  back  from  being  pulled  carelessly  out  of  position. 
In  removing  a  book  from  its  place  the  proper  way  is  first 
to  loosen  the  books  standing  each  side  of  the  one  wanted, 
by  giving  them  a  gentle  sideward  pressure;  then,  tipping 
the  book  from  you  at  the  top  and  taking  hold  of  the 
bottom,  gently  draw  it  out.  Do  not  pile  books  flat-ways 
upon  the  top  of  those  standing  upright  in  the  case.  It 
injures  those  upon  which  they  rest  very  much.  Bemem- 
ber  the  advice  of  old  Eichard  De  Bury  centuries  ago, 
'never  to  approach  a  volume  with  uncleanly  hands.' 
Books  are  easily  soiled,  paper  and  binding  retaining  the 
imperfection  of  the  least  pressure  of  unwashed  hands. 
Dust  ofE  the  books  every  day,  and  remember  that,  like 
house  plants,  thej  need  a  constant  supply  of  fresh  air. 


THE  USE  OF  PUBLIC  LIBRARIES.  93 

They  are  dear  friends.  We  become  attached  to  them 
from  constaut  intercourse,  and  when  we  remember  how 
much  enjoyment  we  receive  from  their  silent,  tender  com- 
panionship, we  should  in  return  treat  them  well,  give 
them  the  best  room  in  the  house,  and  teach  our  children 
and  visitors  to  pay  to  them  due  respect." 


THE  USE   OF   PUBLIC   LIBRARIES. 

Every  town  ought  to  have  a  library  oontaining  as  many 
volumes  as  the  town  has  inhabitants.  Such  a  library 
becomes  at  once  the  center  of  the  intellectual  life  of  the 
town,  and  affects  the  morals  and  manners  of  the  entire 
community.  And  more;  its  influence  stretches  out  into 
the  whole  country,  wherever  its  readers  may  chance  to 
go;  and  its  importance  is  not  for  a  moment  to  be  com- 
pared with  the  entire  sum  of  the  mercantile  and  manu- 
facturing interests  by  which  it  is  surrounded.  A  town 
with  a  library  can  be  distinguished  easily  from  one  which 
lacks  any  such  collection  of  books;  and  those  parts  of  the 
country  in  which  town  libraries  abound  are  the  parts 
which  are  most  influential  in  every  department  of  intel- 
lectual and  even  material  labor.  "Let  those,"  says  a 
recent  writer,  "who  pride  themselves  upon  their  devotion 
to  the  so-called  practical,  reflect  that  the  advantages  of  a 
library  are  no  longer  of  a  purely  literary  character,  and 
are  becoming  less  and  less  so;  that  the 'arts  and  myste- 
ries' of  manufacture  are  no  longer  taught  by  word  of 
mouth  alone  to  indentured  apprentices,  but  that  the 
'master  workmen'  of  the  nineteenth  century  speak 
through  books  to  all;  and  that  in  proportion  as  our  work- 
men become  intelligent  and  skillful  does  their  labor 
increase  in  value  to  themselves  and  to  the  state." 

The  usefulness  of  a  public  library  to  all  classes  of  the 
community,  and  some  of  the  metliods  by  which  that  use- 
fulness may  be  extended,  have  been  well  stated  in  a  recent 
address  to  the  people  of  Springfield,  Mass.,  on  behalf  of 
the  city  library  of  that  place.  "Here,"  says  this  address, 
"are  more  than  40,000  volumes  of  books,  old  and  new, 
from  which  your  selections  can  be  made.  Catalogues 
lying  upon  the  tables  will  aid  you  in  your  choice;  if  you 
do  not  readily  find  what  you  want,  the  librarian  and  his 


94  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

assistants  are  always  ready  to  help  you.  Those  who  fre- 
quent the  library  will  testify  that  the  intelligent  and 
painstaking  service  of  these  librarians  in  aiding  those  who 
are  selecting  books  and  studying  subjects  is  of  great  ad- 
vantage to  them.  Here  are  many  books  of  reference  of 
which  all  our  reading  people  ought  to  avail  themselves. 
Here  are  the  great  encyclopedias,  the  dictionaries,  the 
gazetteers,  the  concordances,  that  will  throw  light  on  the 
puzzling  questions  you  meet  in  your  reading.  You  have 
only  to  step  into  the  library  as  yon  pass  and  obtain  the 
information  you  desire.  Many  of  you  might  turn  the 
library  to  good  account  in  your  several  callings.  Me- 
chanics who  seek  to  perfect  themselves  in  the  industrial 
arts  may  obtain  here  books,  some  of  them  finely  illus- 
trated, on  physics,  on  mechanical  engineering  and  draw- 
ing, and  on  various  topics  in  which  they  are  interested. 
Architects,  builders,  and  landscape  gardeners  may  gain 
from  the  treatises  on  these  shelves,  hints  that  will  be  of 
use  to  them  in  practical  work  as  well  as  in  design.  Those 
who  are  engaged,  whether  on  a  large  or  a  small  scale,  in 
agricultural  or  horticultural  pursuits,  may  derive  consid- 
erable assistance  from  the  treatises  and  reports  filling  a 
large  department  of  this  library.  Students  of  art  will 
find  here  not  only  a  variety  of  critical  and  practical  treat- 
ises, but  a  good  collection  of  prints  and  engravings.  To 
professional  men,  whether  clergymen,  physicians,  lawyers, 
or  journalists,  the  library  affords  numy  advantages.  It 
contains  a  fair  selection  of  books  representing  the  litera- 
ture of  each  of  these  professions,  and  valuable  books,  that 
individuals  are  not  always  able  to  procure  for  themselves, 
are  added  from  time  to  time.  Those  who  are  interested 
in  the  study  of  the  Bible  may  consult  in  the  library  a 
large  and  admirable  selection  of  Bible  dictioiuiries,  com- 
mentaries, introductions,  histories,  etc.,  covering  and 
illustrating  the  whole  subject.  Those  who  are  studying 
any  question  of  immediate  popular  interest — temperance, 
labor,  finance,  tariff,  woman  suffrage,  education — may 
easily,  with  a  little  help  from  the  librarians,  supply  them- 
selves here  witli  ample  information.  The  teachers  in  our 
public  and  piivate  schools  may  nuike  the  library  very 
serviceable  to  themselves  and  to  their  pu])ils  by  consulting 
it  frequently, 'and  by  directing  tlie  reading  of  students. 
Upon  many  of  the  topics  taught  in  the  grammar  schools 


THE  USE  OF  PUBLIC  LIBRARIES.  95 

and  upou  most  of  those  taught  in  the  high  school,  intelli- 
gent boys  and  girls  could  gain  here  much  additional  in- 
formation that  would  freshen  and  confirm  their  acquisi- 
tions in  the  schoolroom.  The  library  is  used  in  this 
manner  to  some  extent  by  teachers  and  pujDils,  but  the 
benefits  thus  arising  might  be  indefinitely  increased. 
Some  of  the  teachers,  by  arrangement  with  the  librarian, 
make  themselves  responsible  for  books  which  they  loan 
to  pupils  who  make  good  use  of  them,  as  supplementing 
their  text-books.  To  the  general  reader  as  well  as  to  the 
special  student,  the  library  offers  an  ample  provision. 
History,  biography,  social  science,  political  science,  travel 
and  discovery,  poetry,  fiction,  essays,  sketches — all  are 
here  in  great  variety.  And  all  this  is  free  to  all.  '1  his 
great  array  of  books,  this  pleasant  hall  lighted  and 
warmed  and  kept  neat  and  orderly,  the  service  of  these 
polite  librarians,  is  without  charge  to  the  reader,  young 
or  old.  .  .  .  Our  citizens  are  justly  proud  of  their 
noble  library.  They  have  received,  already,  great  benefit 
and  pleasure  from  the  use  of  it.  But  it  might  be  used 
much  more  freely  and  with  greatly  increased  profit.  It 
ought  to  afford  not  only  diversion  to  our  idle  people,  but 
instruction  and  stinmlus  to  our  working  people  and  our 
thinking  people.  Rightly  used,  it  will  be  a  means  of 
great  good  to  the  whole  community.  To  the  young, 
especially,  it  should  be  of  incalculable  advantage.  To 
those  who  work  in  our  shops  and  factories,  and  whose 
privileges  of  education  have  been  limited,  it  offers  a  great 
opportunity.  None  of  them  ought  to  feel  lonesome  or 
homeless  so  long  as  its  hospitable  doors  are  open.  To 
bring  the  library  before  their  notice  and  encourage  thera 
in  freely  using  it,  is  one  of  the  obvious  duties  of  those 
who  have  any  responsibility  for  those  yonng  men  and 
women." 

The  connection  between  public  libraries  and  public 
educational  systems  has  attracted  new  attention  of  recent 
years.  The  superintendent  of  the  Boston  schools  says 
that  the  public  library  stands  of  right  at  the  head  of  the 
educational  system  of  the  city,  of  which  it  forms  a  true 
part.  And  on  the  other  hand,  he  urges  that  the  schools 
should  give  instruction  in  the  best  methods  of  reading 
good  books.  "Reading  is  an  art  which,  with  a  little  of 
almost  everything,  has  been  taught  in  the  public  schools 


96  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

inimeraorially;  but  how  to  read  a  book — an  entiie  book — 
is  an  acquisition  made  by  few,  and  never,  so  far  as  I  am 
aware,  systematically  taught  in  the  public  schools." 

The  public  librarian,  indeed,  should  be  a  public  in- 
tructor.  Much  of  what  may  be  said  of  the  value  of  the 
teacher's  influence  upon  individual  scholars — says  Mr. 
Charles  A.  Cutter,  librarian  of  the  Boston  Athent^um — 
and  of  the  satisfaction  and  encouragement  which  comes 
from  it,  ''is  true,  with  very  slight  changes,  of  the  librar- 
ian. The  latter  must  continue  what  the  teacher  has 
begun;  he  must  make  a  beginning,  if  he  can,  where  the 
teacher  has  failed,  and  for  those  with  whom  the  teacher 
lias  not  come  in  contact;  like  the  teacher,  he  must  add 
this  to  duties  already  engrossing;  like  him,  he  must  make 
a  constant  series  of  experiments;  and  again,  like  him,  he 
must  be — and  no  doubt  he  will  be — content  if  in  one  case 
in  a  hundred  he  produces  any  visible  result.  He  needs 
some  interest  and  effort  like  this,  or  else  his  work,  how- 
ever well  done  is  only  the  work  of  a  clerk  or  of  a  book- 
worm." 

"I  want  very  much  indeed,"  says  Mr.  Charles  Francis 
Adams,  Jr.,  "to  see  our  really  admirable  town  library 
become  a  more  living  element  than  it  now  is  in  our  school 
system — its  complement,  in  fact.  Neither  trustee  nor 
librarian,  no  matter  how  faithful  or  zealous  they  may  be, 
can  make  it  so;  for  we  cannot  know  enough  of  the  indi- 
vidual scholars  to  give  them  that  which  they  personally 
need,  and  which  only  they  will  take;  you  cannot  feed 
them  until  you  know  what  they  like,  and  that  we,  in 
dealing  with  the  mass,  cannot  get  at.  You  teachers, 
however,  can  get  at  it,  if  you  only  choose  to.  To  enable 
you  to  do  this,  the  trustees  of  the  library  have  adopted  a 
new  rule,  under  which  each  of  your  schools  may  be  made 
practically  a  l)ranch  library.  The  master  can  himself 
select  and  take  from  the  library  a  number  of  volumes, 
and  keep  them  on  his  desk  for  circulation  among  the 
scholars  under  his  charge.  He  can  study  their  tastes  and 
ransack  the  library  to  gratify  them.  Nay,  more,  if  you 
will  but  find  out  what  your  scholars  want — what  healthy 
books  are  in  demand  among  them — the  trustees  of  the 
library  will  see  to  it  that  you  do  not  want  material.  You 
shall  have  all  the  books  you  will  call  for.  When,  indeed, 
you  begin  to  call,  we  shall  know  exactly  what  to  buy; 


THE  USE  OF  PUBLIC  LIBRARIES.  97 

and  then,  at  last,  -we  could  arrange  in  printed  bulletins 
the  courses  of  reading  which  your  experience  Avould  point 
out  as  best,  and  every  book  would  bo  accessible.  From 
that  time,  both  schools  and  library  would  begin  to  do 
their  full  work  together,  and  the  last  would  become  what 
it  ought  to  be,  the  natural  complement  of  the  first — the 
People's  College." 

The  choice  of  books  for  public  libraries  should  be  made 
with  care,  but  with  a  full  remembrance  of  the  fact  that 
there  are  many  tastes  in  the  community,  and  that,  while 
those  tastes  can  and  must  be  raised,  they  must  first  be 
reached.  "What  books  shall  be  bought?"  asks  The 
Lihrary  Journal.,  "what  kinds  of  books?  and  what  books 
of  their  kinds?  is  almost  ilie  vital  question  in  all  libraries; 
most  pressing  in  the  smallest,  which  have  least  to  spend 
for  books  and  most  need  to  foster  public  appreciation. 
Shall  we  have  fiction  or  no  fiction,  or  shall  we  have  George 
Eliot  only  and  not  Mrs.  Holmes?  'The  public  library 
is  not  to  be  the  private  workshop  for  the  few  scholars;' 
'The  public  library  is  not  to  pander  to  depraved  popular 
tastes;' — these  are  growl  and  counter-growl.  .  .  .  We 
suppose  all  would  agree  upon  these  simple  principles — (1) 
a  library  must  not  circulate  bad  books;  (2)  it  must,  within 
this  limit,  give  the  public  the  books  it  wants;  (3)  it  must 
teach  it  to  want  better  books.  These  afford,  in  general, 
plain  sailing,  bad  books,  meaning  immoral  books,  books 
absolutely  hurtful.  But  there  are  those  who  would  ex- 
clude under  that  term  respectively  unliterary  books,  bad 
in  style;  'sensational' books;  all  fiction;  books  religiously 
unorthodox.  It  is  sufficient  to  reply  that  books  for  read- 
ing are  of  no  use  unless  read,  and  that  if  you  can  get  a 
]nan  to  reading  he  is  sure,  as  Mr,  Hale  would  say,  to  read 
'up  and  not  down.'  "  But  we  must  remember  that  young 
readers  must  not  be  given  too  great  influence  in  the  selec- 
tion of  the  books,  and  that  under  no  circumstances  what- 
ever must  they  befurnished  with  positively  bad  books. 
Mr.  H.  A.  Homes  urges  a  preliminary  reading  of  books 
by  competent  committees,  as  has  been  done  with  reference 
to  Sunday-school  books,  by  some  ladies  of  Boston  and 
Cambridge;  "A  large  part  of  the  reading  in  public  town 
libraries  is  done  by  persons  under  twenty-one  years  of 
age.  For  many  Sunday-school  libraries  it  has  been  found 
necessary  to  adopt  a  rule  that  no  book  should  be  received 


98  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 

■which  had  not  previously  been  read  and  approved  by  a 
committee  of  the  school,  notwithstanding  it  had  been 
written,  approved,  and  published  expressly  for  Sunday- 
schools.  Is  it  not  even  more  important  and  urgent  to 
secure,  by  some  similar  measure,  that  the  books  to  be 
loaned  from  institutions  so  influential  as  free  town  libraries 
should  have  some  such  guarantee  that  they  will  be  works 
elevating  and  ennobling  to  the  minds  of  their  readers?" 

An  important  matter  is  the  location  of  the  library 
building  or  room.  Mr.  A.  M.  Pendleton  has  some  serv- 
iceable hints  on  this  subject  in  The  Library  Journal: 
"First,  let  the  room  be  centrally  located,  not  geographic- 
ally, but  in  the  most  populous  part  of  the  town.  Plant 
it  among  the  people,  where  its  presence  will  be  seen  and 
felt.  Next,  other  things  being  equal,  it  is  better  to  have 
it  upon  the  first  floor,  so  that  passers-by  will  see  its  goodly 
array  of  books,  and  be  tempted  to  inspect  them.  Care 
should  be  taken  to  have  it  well  lighted,  and  if  possible 
have  a  second  room,  in  which  visitors  can  linger  over 
periodicals  and  other  entertaining  works.  The  wise 
library  manager,  like  the  children  of  this  world,  will  hold 
out  as  many  seductions  as  possible.  Encourage  dalliance 
by  scattering  about  temptations.  If  the  sight  of  evil 
tempts  to  evil,  so  the  presence  of  good  things  quickens 
the  desire  to  possess  them.  A  cheery  room,  tastefully 
arranged  and  kept,  a  generous  display  of  books,  and 
numerous  persons  coming  and  going,  will  determine  the 
popular  tide  to  your  quarters.  These  are  elements  of  a 
successful  library,  often  as  important  as  the  character  of 
the  books  themselves.  A  library  pushed  into  a  dark 
corner,  or  an  unsightly  closet,  or  lodged  in  the  rear  part 
of  a  store,  will  never  have  a  strong  hold  upon  a  people. 
If  it  be  possible,  have  it  by  itself.  Do  not  locate  it  in  a 
store  because  a  clerk  who  is  busy  with  other  things  most 
of  the  time  will  attend  to  it  now  and  then.  Cheap  labor 
is  often  the  most  expensive.  Things  that  will  do,  make- 
shifts of  one  kind  or  another,  we  are  all  compelled  to 
accept;  but  accept  them  as  the  last  resort,  and  not  as  the 
ready  confession  of  our  good-for-nothingness.  Covet  the 
best  things,  and,  when  attainable,  be  satisfied  with  nothing 
less." 

Let  it  not  be  thought  that  a  town  library  is  only  a  lux- 
ury for  great  cities  or  rich  communities.    "In  the  work 


THE  TRUE  /SERVICE  Of  RKADIKG.  99 

of  popular  education  tlirough  libraries,  it  is,  after  all,  not 
the  few  great  libraries,  but  the  thousand  small  that  may 
do  most  for  the  people."  The  present  writer  can  sincerely 
say  that  he  owes  more  to  the  library  of  his  native  town 
(then  containing,  perhaps  four  thousand  "volumes)  than 
he  does  to  his  whole  college  course,  in  which  the  use  of 
very  much  larger  libraries  played  a  great  part.  And 
others  feel  a  similar  debt  of  gratitude  to  town  libraries  far 
smaller  than  this — libraries  of  no  more  than  a  few  hun- 
dred books,  or  even  less,  kept  in  a  few  poor  shelves  in 
some  town-liouse  or  country  store.  The  thing  to  do  is  to 
make  a  beginning  of  a  local  library.  If  your  community 
has  none,  it  ought  to  be  thoroughly  ashamed  of  itself. 
There  must  bo  ten  good  books  in  it,  or  the  money  to  buy 
them.  Gather  these  together  and  start  a  library  at  once; 
the  life  of  the  whole  neighborhood  will  immediately  be 
made  that  much  the  nobler  and  stronger. 


THE   TRUE   SERVICE   OF   READING. 

The  true  service  of  reading  is  something  more  than  to 
afford  amusement  for  an  idle  hour.  Most  readers  will 
admit  this,  although  their  practice  is  too  often  opposed  to 
the  principle  whose  theoretical  correctness  they  readily 
accept.  And  it  is  also  to  be  remembered  that  the  proper 
end  to  be  sought  in  reading  is  something  far  more  than 
mere  acquirement  of  knowledge,  or  attainment  of  indi- 
vidual culture.  A  wise  or  a  highly  cultured  person  may 
be  one  who  has  missed  the  genuine  good  of  reading,  quite 
as  effectually  as  though  he  were  ignorant  and  uncultured. 
The  end  and  aim  of  all  reading  should  be  the  proper  de- 
velopment of  a  true  aud  high  personal  character,  and  the 
utilizing  of  one's  own  acquirements  in  the  work  of  mak- 
ing other  men  nobler  and  better  than  they  now  are. 

In  this  end  and  aim  unwise  writers  aud  readers  mani- 
festly have  no  share.  "  Literature,"  says  President  Porter, 
"must  respect  ethical  truth,  if  it  is  to  reach  its  highest 
achievements,  or  attain  that  place  in  the  admiration  and 
love  of  the  human  race  which  we  call  fame.  The  litera- 
ture which  does  not  respect  ethical  truth,  ordinarily  sur- 
vives as  literature  but  a  single  generation."  But  literature 
which  does  respect  ethical  truth  is  that  which  survives 


100  THE  ClIOICK  (W  noOKH. 

through  the  centuries,  and  ivliicli  plays  its  part  in  tho 
betterment  of  the  Avorh!  long  after  the  whole  face  of  civi- 
lization has  changed.  He  who  recognizes  literature  of 
this  class,  and  takes  it  to  his  heart,  with  the  resolve  to 
use  it  as  a  trust  rather  than  a  selfishly-hoarded  possession, 
gets  the  greatest  benefit  for  himself  and  brings  the  great- 
est advantage  to  others. 

The  sense  of  the  preciousness  and  the  perpetnit}'  of 
good  books,  in  their  iutlnence  on  the  world  through  the 
ages,  is  one  which  very  many  writers  have  expressed  in 
words  of  reverence.  Keats  exclaims,  in  one  of  his  glowing 
lyrics: 

Bards  of  passion  and  of  mirth, 
Ye  have  left  your  souls  on  earth  ! 
Have  ye  souls  in  heaven  too, 

Double-lived  in  regions  new  ? 

Thus  ye  live  on  high  and  then 
On  the  earth  ye  live  again  ; 
And  the  souls  ye  left  behind  you 
Teach  us,  here,  the  way  to  find  you. 
Where  your  other  souls  are  joying. 
Never  sluniber'd,  never  cloying. 
Here,  your  earth-born  souls  will  speak 
To  mortals,  of  their  little  week  ; 
Of  their  sorrows  and  delights  ; 
Of  their  passions  and  their  spites  ; 
Of  their  glory  and  their  shame  ; 
What  doth  strengthen  and  what  maim. 
Thus  ye  teach  us,  everj^  day, 
Wisdom,  though  fled  far  away. 
Bards  of  passion  and  of  mirth. 
Ye  have  left  your  souls  on  earth  ! 
Ye  have  souls  in  heaven  too, 
Double-lived  in  regions  new  ! 

"Of  all  the  things  which  man  can  do  or  make  here 
below,  by  far  the  most  momentous,  wonderful,  and  worthy 
are  the  things  we  call  books,"  says  Carlylo.  And  again, 
Carlyle  declares:  "Certainly  the  art  of  writing  is  the 
most  miraculous  of  all  things  man  has  devised.  Odin's 
runes  were  the  first  form  of  the  work  of  a  hero;  books, 
written  words,  are  still  miraculous  runes,  tho  latest  form! 
In  books  lies  the  soul  of  the  whole  past  time;  the  articu- 
late, audible  voice  of  the  past,  when  the  body  and  mate- 
rial substance  of  it  has  altogether  vanished  like  a  dream. 
Mighty  fleets  and  armies,  harbors  and  arsenals,  vast  cities, 


THE  TR  VE  SEIl  VICE  OF  RE  A  DING.  101 

high-domed,  iiiauy-engined — they  are  precious,  great;  but 
what  do  they  become?  Agamemnon,  the  many  Agamem- 
nons,  Pericleses,  and  their  Greece;  all  is  gone  now  to 
some  ruined  fragments,  dumb,  mournful  wrecks  and 
blocks;  but  the  books  of  Greece!  There  Greece,  to  every 
thinker,  still  very  literally  lives;  can  be  called  up  again 
into  life.  No  magic  rune  is  stranger  than  a  book.  All 
that  mankind  has  done,  thought,  gained,  or  been;  it  is 
lying  in  magic  preservation  in  the  pages  of  books.  They 
are  the  chosen  possession  of  men."  In  The  Spectator  is 
this  eloquent  passage  by  Addison  :  "As  the  Supreme  Being 
has  expressed,  and  as  it  Avere  printed  his  ideas  in  the  crea- 
tion, men  express  their  ideas  in  books,  which  by  this 
great  invention  of  these  latter  ages  may  last  as  long  as  the 
sun  and  moon,  and  perish  only  in  the  general  wreck  of 
nature.  .  .  .  There  is  no  other  method  of  fixing 
those  thoughts  whijh  arise  and  disappear  in  the  mind  of 
man,  and  transmitting  them  to  the  last  periods  of  time; 
no  other  method  of  giving  a  permanency  to  our  ideas,  and 
preserving  the  knowledge  of  any  particular  person,  when 
his  body  is  mixed  with  the  common  mass  of  matter,  and 
his  soul  retired  into  the  world  of  spirits.  Bocks  are  the 
legacies  that  a  great  genius  leaves  to  mankint^'l,  which  are 
delivered  down  from  generation  to  generation,  as  presents 
to  the  posterit}^  of  those  who  are  yet  unborn."  Herrick 
wrote  to  a  friend  whom  he  had  commemorated  in  reiTie: 

Looke  in  my  booke,  and  herein  see 
Life  endlesse  sign'd  to  thee  and  me  : 
We  o'er  the  tombes  and  fates  shall  flye, 
While  other  generations  die. 

And  Spenser  sung  in  stately  lines: 

For  deeds  doe  die,  however  noblie  donne, 

And  thoughts  do  as  themselves  decay  ; 

But  wise  words,  taught  in  numbers  for  to  runn 

Recorded  by  the  Muses,  line  for  ay  ; 

Ne  may  with  storming  showers  be  washt  away 

Ne  bitter  breathing  windes  with  harmful  blast 

Nor  age,  nor  envie,  shall  them  ever  wast. 

Milton  said,  in  his  noble  Areopagitica  (or  plea  for  the 
freedom  of  the  press):  "Bookes  are  not  absolutely  dead 
things,  but  doe  contain  a  potencie  of  Ijife  in  them  to  be  a? 
active  as  that  Soule  was  whose  progeny  they  are;  nay, 


102  THE  CTIOIVE  OF  BOOKS. 

they  do  preserve  as  in  a  violl  the  purest  ellioacie  and  ex- 
traction of  that  living  intellect  that  bred  them.  I  know 
they  are  as  lively,  and  as  vigorously  productive,  as  those 
fabulous  Dragon's  teeth;  and  being  sown  up  and  down, 
may  chance  to  spring  iip  armed  men.  And  yet  on  the 
other  hand  unlesse  warinesse  be  us'd,  as  good  almost  kill 
a  man  as  kill  a  good  Book;  who  kills  a  man  kills  a  reason- 
able creature,  God's  image;  but  he  who  destroys  a  good 
Booke,  kills  Reason  itselfe,  kills  the  Image  of  God  as  it 
were  in  the  eye.  Many  a  man  lives  a  burden  to  the  Earth  ; 
but  a  good  Booke  is  the  pretious  life-blood  of  a  master- 
spirit, imbalm'd  and  treasur'd  up  on  purpose  to  a  Life 
beyond  life.  .  .  .  We  should  be  wary  therefore  what 
persecution  we  raise  against  the  living  labors  of  publick 
men,  how  we  spill  that  season'd  Life  of  Man  preserv'd 
and  stor'd  up  in  Bookes;  since  we  see  a  kind  of  homicide 
may  be  thus  committed,  sometimes  a  martyrdome;  and  if 
it  extend  to  the  whole  impression,  a  kinde  of  massacre, 
whereof  the  execution  ends  not  in  the  slaying  of  an  ele- 
mentall  Life,  but  strikes  at  that  etheriall  and  fift  essence, 
the  breath  of  Reason  itselfe,  slaies  an  Immortality  rather 
then  a  Life."  Richard  Baxter  thought  the  written  word 
more  powerful  than  the  spoken  one: — "Because  God  hath 
made  the  excellent,  holy  writings  of  his  servants  the  sin- 
gular blessing  of  this  land  and  age;  and  many  an  one 
may  have  a  good  book,  even  any  day  or  hour  of  the  week, 
that  cannot  at  all  have  a  good  preacher;  I  advise  all  God's 
servants  to  he  thankful  for  so  great  a  mercy,  and  to  make 
use  of  it,  and  be  much  in  reading;  for  reading  with  most 
doth  more  conduce  to  knowledge  than  hearing  doth,  be- 
cause you  may  choose  what  subjects  and  the  most  excellent 
treatises  you  please;  and  may  be  often  at  it,  and  may 
peruse  again  and  again  what  you  forget,  and  may  take 
time  as  you  go  to  fix  it  on  your  mind;  and  with  very 
many  it  doth  more  than  hearing  also  to  move  the  heart." 
Coleridge  compares  books  to  fruit-trees: — "It  is  saying 
less  than  the  truth  to  affirm  that  an  excellent  book  (and 
the  remark  holds  almost  equally  good  of  a  Raphael  as  of 
a  Milton)  is  like  a  well  chosen  and  well  tended  fruit- 
tree.  Its  fruits  are  not  of  one  season  only.  With  the 
due  and  natural  intervals,  we  may  recur  to  it  year  after 
year,  and  it  will  supply  the  same  nourishment  and  the 
same  gratification,  if  only  we  ourselves  return  to  it  with 


THE  TRUE  SERVICE  OF  READING.  103 

the  same  healthful  appetite."  James  Freeman  Clarke 
closes  an  excellent  chapter  on  reading  with  these  grave 
words: — "Let  us  thank  God  for  books.  When  I  consider 
what  some  books  have  done  for  the  world,  and  what  they 
are  doing,  how  they  keep  up  our  hope,  awaken  new  cour- 
age and  faith,  soothe  pain,  give  an  ideal  life  to  those 
whose  homes  are  hard  and  cold,  bind  together  distant  ages 
and  foreign  lands,  create  new  worlds  of  beauty,  bring 
down  truths  from  heaven — I  give  eternal  blessings  for 
this  gift,  and  pray  that  we  may  use  it  aright,  and  abuse 
it  never." 

Is  it  any  wonder,  then,  that  John  Lyly  gave  his  son 
this  advice: — "My  good  sonne,  thou  art  to  receive  by  my 
death  wealth,  and  by  my  counsel  wisdom,  and  I  would 
thou  wert  as  willing  to  imprint  the  one  in  thy  heart,  as 
thou  wilt  be  ready  to  beare  the  other  in  thy  purse;  to  bee 
rich  is  the  gift  of  Fortune,  to  bee  wise  the  grace  of  God. 
Have  more  minde  on  thy  bookes  then  thy  bags,  more  de- 
sire of  godliness  than  gold,  greater  affection  to  dye  well, 
then  to  live  wantonly."  "The  only  true  equalizers  in 
the  world  are  books,"  says  Dr.  Langford;  "the  only 
treasure-house  open  to  all  comers  is  a  library;  the  only 
wealth  which  will  not  decay  is  knowledge;  the  only  jewel 
which  you  can  carry  beyond  the  grave  is  wisdom." 
"Books  are  the  best  of  things,  well  used,"  says  Emerson; 
"abused  among  the  worst.  What  is  the  right  use?  What 
is  the  one  end  which  all  means  go  to  effect?  They  are 
for  nothing  but  to  inspire."  "In  any  choice  of  books," 
urges  James  Kussell  Lowell,  "always  remember  what 
Milton  said,  that  'a  good  book  is  the  life-blood  of  a 
master  spirit;'  and  also  recall  the  ailvice  of  Cato,  always 
to  'keep  company  with  the  good.'  " 

In  a  word,  every  reader  may  well  bear  upon  his  heart, 
as  his  guide  toward  right  reading,  that  motto  which  one 
sometimes  sees  deeply  cut  in  the  walls  of  old  churches: 
Ad  fnajorem  Dei  gloria?}! — "  For  the  greater  glory  of  God." 


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